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aboutzatanna · 2 years

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The Many Faces of Fate

Given how YJ is currently the most popular adaptation of Zatanna and that version tied the Zataras and Dr Fate together, I thought it would be interesting to take a look at how Dr Fate is depicted in the comics since the character and its users are a whole different beast there. (For Zee’s interactions with Dr Fate specifically, see this post).

As of this writing there has been 7 generations of Dr Fate and 9 major characters who has worn the helmet. Wait, wha? This does not include any of the Zataras as that’s specific to the YJ show.

But what does it mean to be Dr Fate?

Are you just an innocent victim held hostage by a powerful being?

What makes Dr Fate tick? And why has there been so many Dr Fates in the last two decades?

What’s the common thread that binds all the Fates together?

Did you know that one of Dr Fate’s writers passed away in the midst of writing his adventures?

Also, is the story of Dr Fate just the helmet and cape? I would say, no. I think the story of Dr Fate is about the person behind the helmet and the beautiful, bizarre adventures they go on, how they are changed due to that responsibility, and how their relationships are impacted by being connected to something so powerful and cosmic. Done right, Dr Fate can be trippy, funny, frightening and downright eerie once you get to know the man behind the helmet. Dr Fate represents the darkside of superhero wish fulfillment.

And none really exemplifies that more than the first person to wear the helmet:

1/7 Kent Nelson & Inza Cramer: ‘The Original Fates’

Kent and his father archaeologist father Sven Nelson were on a trip to Mesopotamia sometime around the 1920′s Whilst exploring an ancient tomb, Kent accidentally set off a trap that released poison gas that killed his father and awakened the ancient being Nabu. The latter ‘adopts’ Kent after he magically erasing Kent’s trauma from his mind. Kent grows to adult hood under Nabu’s tutelage and years later ventures out into the world as Dr Fate.

Does this sound creepy? Yes, yes it does.

But back in the Golden Age Dr Fate was written no differently from other heroes of that era. He was a master sorcerer but rarely helpless even without his magic:

He also had a love interest named Inza Cramer who was pulled into his adventures.

(And as we’ll see, Inza wasn’t your typical love interest either.)

Kent also wanted to be a doctor, a real MD, as well (take that Injustice Harley!):

It should also be noted that the first Dr Fate stories had his origin take place in the Valley of Ur, Mesopotamia but later iterations would replace that with Ancient Egypt. Another interesting fact is that Nabu is the early iterations was a humanoid alien from the planet Cilia.

It was when Dr Fate got a back up title in a Flash ongoing that was later collected ‘The Immortal Doctor Fate’ that a creative team began to delve into the dark side of Dr Fate. Although much of it is credited to Martin Pasko and Walt Simonson, wiki also credits Paul Levtiz, Steve Gerber and Keith Giffen as having contributed to the mini as well.

The series gave a lot of focus to Inza and established why her perspective is so important to Dr Fate.

The mini showed Kent and Inza living in Tower of Fate, they’re long lived thanks to Fate’s magic but Inza has to ‘share’ Kent with Nabu. Even when he is tired and exhausted from being Fate, the helmet doesn’t, it moves on it’s own, it does research on magic when kent’s asleep and when it’s time for action, it possesses Kent again and takes him out for a fight while Inza watches in horror. Sometimes she is not speaking to ‘Kent’ she is speaking to Nabu. Whilst being young for a long time was great, Inza was not content not having a life of her own.

This understandably caused a rift between Kent and Inza but surprisingly, it was Nabu/Helmet of Fate that helped repair the relationship by helping them see the world from each other’s perspective:

The helmet did it because it recognized that Inza was important to Kent and necessary to continue working as Dr Fate. Though likely the ulterior motive is to keep Kent happy and willing to keep working as Dr Fate.

This take on Dr Fate played like an adolescent fantasy mixed with horror, drama and romance. The series is also a great opportunity to see Kent and Inza as their own characters and no just an older mentor figures who is clearly set up to pass the helmet down to someone else.

Inza herself would don the mantle of Fate at one point starting from Doctor Fate Vol 2 #25:

Originally, her and Kent were meant to combine as one to become Doctor but they couldn’t so Inza had to fly solo. In a role reversal, Kent was now the stay-at-home-spouse while Inza was the superhero.

Inza even developed a friendship with Wonder Woman and they guest starred in each others titles since they were both written by the same person at the time; William Messner Loebs. Most notably in Wonder Woman #76:

(It’s Circe, she got better later.)

And later Inza teamed up with Zatanna when they were both recruited by the Phantom Stranger along with Etrigan the Demon to fight a rampaging Eclipso possessed Spectre in Spectre Vol 3 #17 written by John Ostrander:

There were times when Inza got carried away as Dr Fate and made mistakes. But overall, she was a more ‘fun’ Dr Fate than Kent. Likely because she wasn’t being manipulated and controlled like Kent has been for most of his life and they were largely free of Nabu’s torment and you got this mix of mundane domestic life mixed with the otherworldly:

Doctor Fate Vol 2 #25

Source: Doctor Fate Vol 2 #26

but she wasn’t the second Dr. Fate, she was the 4th. There was another couple who got the opportunity before her:

2/7 Eric & Linda Strauss : ‘The Most Bizarre Dr Fate Duo’

In a 4 issue mini series titled Doctor Fate by writer JM DeMattis and artist Keith Giffen we learn that the forces of order is receding that chaos is taking over and the magic that kept Kent and Inza young is wearing off. Inza died and Kent can no longer protect Dr Fate.

We are introduced to the step mother and step son duo Linda and Eric Strauss. Linda married Eric’s father for money but she regretted that decision as he proved to be an abusive partner. She did however, care for Eric Strauss enough to stay behind as his guardian. Eric is already magically aware and even at a young age claimed he could see Kent and the Lords of Order in a mirror.

At this point, the Lords of Chaos were getting stronger, the magic that kept Kent and Inza young for decades had worn off, Inza was dead and Kent was too beaten to fight the coming forces. He needed a successor.

One day, when Linda took Eric to the park and whilst lost in thought, Kent comes in and secretly takes away Eric, much to Linda’s horror.

We are treated to this awesome horror panel by Giffen of Nabu communicating with Eric via a mouth on Kent’s abdomen:

Kent is more reluctant but Nabu ages Eric into adulthood to fight the agents of chaos as Dr Fate. Of course, Eric is still partially a child, mentally. He is beaten easily by the villain who takes the power of magic for himself.

Meanwhile, in the Tower of Fate, Linda manages to find Kent and confront him about his actions and also Nabu. I can’t post the whole sequence here but we get this great set of pages of Kent confronting Nabu on how the latter has tormented and manipulated him his whole life:

Eric returns to the Tower of Fate and he wants to confront the villain head on but with Linda by his side. This leads into what made this duo different from Kent and Inza. Neither chaos and order are inherently good or bad. Eric and Linda have to combine as one being to work as Dr Fate. This is something that Nabu kept from Kent which the latter figured out, allowing the new Dr Fate to forge his own path. Nabu himself ends up rejecting the Lords of Orders offer to live amongst them and returns to earth, this time inhabiting Kent’s decaying corpse as if it were a puppet and serving as a guide and mentor to Eric and Linda.

Once again, the themes of repressed adolescence, trauma, controlling mentor figures, the nature of order and chaos, and control pop up in Dr Fate. Remember Kent accidentally killed his father then was ‘Nabu’ whom in later retellings also magically aged him up and used him as an agent. It’s like a horror version of Billy Batson’s Shazam. Now you have Eric Strauss whom Kent takes in at the behest of Nabu but this time he has to work as one with his step mother. But what exactly does it say? That’s left up to the reader to decide. In a way it reminds me of the 1997 Jumanji movie, something just clicks in your brain when you realize that Alan Parrish’s father and the hunter Van Pelt are both played by the same person.

The Eric and Linda Strauss Doctor Fate got an ongoing written by DeMattis and drawn by Giffen titled Doctor Fate Vol 2. It was very trippy and the artwork leaned heavily on exaggerating the proportions of Fate’s helmet to almost cartoonish levels:

It really plays into the idea that despite being aged up, Eric was still a child in his mind.

Both Eric and Linda had to combine to be Dr Fate but at the same time, they could be Dr Fate individually as well:

Though one thing that made added a layer of creepiness to the Eric and Linda duo was Linda having feeling for Eric when he was a child and then contemplating the idea of hooking up with him after he was aged into an adult. Ew. I like the idea of a step son and step mom duo but I could have done without the pedo incest vibes. To DeMattis credit, we are not supposed to see her attraction to Eric as wholesome, even Linda herself is repressing her feelings from the start.

Side note: DeMattis also wrote the final half of Zatanna’s trippy final arc in JLA and he was also a writer on Justice League Dark Vol 1 when the team faced off against Prayala. Him and Giffen also wrote the excellent and comedic ‘Justice League Europe’ and Justice League International titles.

The Eric and Linda Strauss duo didn’t last long. The magic that aged Eric into adulthood had the side effect of also slowly killing him and Linda had to take charge to save him from Darkseid. After Eric died, Linda took over as Dr Fate, she couldn’t perform as well due to Eric’s death and had to merge with Nabu. Then she ‘dies’ but learns that Eric did not fully die either. In a very trippy story that involves the Phantom Stranger, Eric and Linda are reincarnated into the bodies of a recently deceased couple and their new job was taking care of a child that was of cosmic importance. The story also brought back Kent and Inza Nelson in a newer and younger bodies, this time with Inza as Dr Fate as covered in the Kent and Inza entry.

From Doctor Fate #25 onwards, written by William Messner Loebs with art by Vince Giarrano, Inza Nelson takes over as the new Dr Fate. Initially both Kent and Inza combined to become Dr Fate like Eric and Linda but the process proved to be painful for Kent which left Inza to take over as Dr Fate.

Much like Martin Pasko did earlier, Messner-Loebs infused Kent and Inza’s characters with lots of humanity and also a good dose of humor which helped ground the characters despite their strange adventures.

But alas, neither Kent nor Inza’s time lasted long. DC during this period didn’t want ‘senior citizen heroes’ and wanted to appeal to hip and young readers. So during the Zero Hour event, the villain Extant aged Kent and Inza to their actual ages and then separated them from their magical artifacts of Dr Fate.

Kent wanted to recover the artifacts and this lead to him meeting with:

3/7 Jared Stevens: ‘The Exxxtreme Dr Fate’

A mercenary who hunted down the artifacts that Dr Fate uses like helmet and amulet for the now aged Kent and Inza Nelson but the duo found out that the magic no longer works for them and are promptly killed off by the arc’s villain.

Jared, in gritty 90′s anti hero fashion, melts down Fate’s helmet and fashions it into a dagger which he uses to become the new extreeeme Dr Fate. Jared is almost universally loathed by writers because he really represented the excess of the 90′s. He was the epitome of the 90′s bad ass anti hero.

The character even got two ongoings. His first one titled Fate ran for 23 issues and even had a spin off called Scare Tactics which centered on a band of the same name that was composed of monster. Jared’s second ongoing was titled Book of Fate and was written by Keith Giffen and it wasn’t bad? Was kind of descent?

He was unceremoniously killed off in JSA #1 (1999) where he appeared at the funeral of the original Sandman, Wesely Dodds, to warn them of a coming threat before promptly falling dead due to being stabbed in the back with his own dagger by the story’s villain.

4/7 Hector Hall: ‘The Most Connected & Tragic Dr Fate’

In JSA: Secret Files & Origins #1 Wesely Dodds, the original Sandman has a prophetic dream that tells him about the birth of a child fated to become the next Dr Fate. The child however will be sought after by powerful forces, namely the wizard Mordu. Thus, in Tibet , Wesley commits suicide after a confrontation with the Mordru. His and Jared’s death posted above and the search for the new Dr Fate is what kicked off 1999′s seminal JSA series by Geoff Johns, James Robinson and the David S Goyer.

But the new Dr Fate didn’t turn out to be a new character but a reincarnated version of an existing one; namely Hector Hall.

So even before Hector became Dr Fate he had quite a bit of history which also coincidentally made him the perfect candidate for Dr Fate as well.

Hector was the son of the Golden Age Hawkman and Hawkgirl, Carter Hall and Shiera Hall respectively. Originally the JSA and related characters were set on Earth 2. Hector was cursed from birth by Hath-Set (who also catalyzed the Hawk’s reincarnation cycle) and was born without a soul. As a child, he felt neglected by his parents who gave more attention to the hero Northwind.

As a young adult, he donned a suit of Nth metal armor and became known as the hero the Silver Scarab. Hector joined the Infinity Inc made up of various kids and legacy heroes from the JSA. He fell in love with Lyta Hall, the daughter of the Wonder Woman/Diana and Steve Trevor.

Unfortunately, the curse of Hath-Set came to pass and after a brief bout of possession and mind control, Hector seemingly died leaving Lyta a pregnant widower.

But, his death didn’t last long. Hector took the place of Garret Sandford’s Sandman becoming the second Sandman. Hector lived in a dream world and only briefly managed to reunite with his wife. Eventually, Lyta chose to join her husband in the world of dreams.

Then, in 1985, Crisis on Infinite Earths happened, Earth 2 was no more and the JSA were now incorporated into the main earth. Lyta Hall was no longer the daughter of Diana and Steve Trevor a new character called Helena Kosmatos and a Greek officer.

Hector and Lyta were still living in the dream world and in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series we learn that Hector was being duped by Brute and Glob. They were denizens of Gaiman’s Sandman/Morpheus’ dream realm who escaped and are now manipulating Hector within the dream world of a young abused child, Jed Walker.

Morpheus returns to claim what’s his, he dispatches Brute and Glob, reveals that Hector was a ghost all along and tells Lyta that her child would be his now since it was born in the dream realm. Later, Lyta has a severe mental breakdown and unleashing the Kindly Ones on Dream. The latter ‘dies’ but her son, Daniel Hall takes his place as the new Dream.

Cut to: 1999′s JSA series; Hector is reincarnated, this time in a body of a child of Hawk and Dove.* He has white hair now, Nabu acts as a more kindly mentor, the previous Dr Fate’s are all in his amulet and he takes down his first villain; the wizard Mordru whom he traps in his amulet.

*Initially the woman who gives birth to the Fate child was a comatose Lyta which would have meant that she gave birth to her own husband. Which is...ewwww. But later it was revealed that the woman was Dove instead.

He also reunites with his father, Carter Hall, who, funnily enough looks younger than Hector now:

Hector’s personal arc in the series was reuniting with his lost wife and there were hints that Nabu knew more than he was letting on.

Hector also needed someone to point out how he changes whenever he wears the helmet and for him, it was his father, who has his own experience with reincarnation:

At one point Mordru takes over the helmet and the powers of Fate leaving poor Hector trapped in the amulet:

He manages to regain control again and now has a bitchin’ goatee:

Sadly, this wouldn’t be the first time that this has happened to him, in a story arc focusing on Black Adam’s war on Khandaq (which interestingly enough is also the basis of the upcoming Black Adam movie), this time it’s Nabu who suddenly switches to being a villain. He traps Hector in the amulet, the other Fate’s were revealed to only be illusions and out of the blue, Hector reunites with Lyta:

Hector takes back control of the helmet from Nabu and achieved his quest to save his wife. We even got a cameo from Daniel Hall in JSA:

But:

Yep, the Vertigo side of DC wasn’t happy with Hector and Lyta being in the JSA. Especially since they were characters who played an important role in Gaiman’s Sandman series. They didn’t want anything going on in current continuity to mess it up.

There was a story arc where Hector and Lyta met Brute and Glob again but the story skirts around the edges without outright referencing Sandman.

You see, during the 90′s and 00′s, Vertigo was walled off from the rest of the DCU. It was DC’s mature label. While characters like Spectre, Zatanna, Madame Xanadu and Phantom Stranger could freely travel between the Vertigo titles and regular DC titles, certain characters like John Constantine couldn’t appear in the main universe. He may be freewheeling around the DCU post Nu52 but back in the 00′s, this was unthinkable. Characters from mainline DCU could sometimes guest star in a Vertigo title (like all the heroes who showed up to Spectre’s funeral in Spectre Vol 3) but certain characters were always walled off. If you as a writer, want to use any of the Endless characters, you have to gain approval from Neil Gaiman himself.

At the end of the day, Vertigo wasn’t happy with Hector and Lyta being used in JSA. It didn’t matter if Hector and Lyta were pre existing characters, they were now Sandman characters and thus off limits. It should be noted that Vertigo head Karen Berger was also the editor for Wonder Woman during the George Perez reboot. I bring this up due to Lyta’s tertiary connection to Diana and the Amazons.

So, during DC’s Day of Vengeance event, the Spectre sans host is manipulated by the Eclipso/Jean Loring into warring against all of magic and that meant Hector and Lyta were now targets:

Nabu in full control of the helmet and amulet takes on the Spectre along with the JSA and the rest of DC’s magical pantheon.

Meanwhile, Hector and Lyta are trapped in hell and are offered one final reprieve by their son:

What a meta way to go out.

Afterwards, Hector and Lyta were basically forgotten by the rest of the DCU. Wildcat made one comment about needing to find out what happened to Hector and Lyta shortly after they were banished but afterwards, nothing. Hawkman never made a mention of his son or his disappearance afterwards. It was as if they just ceased to exist afterwards. And although Daniel has shown up a couple of times in the DCU afterwards, Hector and Lyta still remains elusive.

Save for their very brief cameos on the new Earth 2 that was introduced in the JSA title shortly before Johns left the title and a couple of years before the Nu52 reboot:

It’s sad that Hector, whose story arc is what kicked off the new JSA, ended like this. Sadly, Hector wasn’t the only one who lost prominence. Sandy Hawkins who was the defacto leader of the new JSA and had a prominent role in the beginning also faded away. Whereas Hector was forgotten, with Sandy it’s like they didn’t know what to do with him anymore.

“The we-literally-kick-started-the-modern-JSA-but-nobody-remembers-us--anymore club.”

Overall, I think Hector is my favorite Dr Fate. Part of it is nostalgia, my introduction to Dr Fate was through his guest appearances in Superman: TAS and JLU where it was Kent Nelson version but when I got into comics, Hector was the first time I got to know the person behind the helmet. He’s basically an anime protagonist; bad ass parents, cursed from birth, angsty about his dad not paying enough attention to him and later becomes a white haired pretty boy.

Plus there is something really cool about the son of one superhero taking on the identity of a different hero altogether, one that he happens to fit perfectly as well. It’s a great way to tie two of DC’s most prominent Egyptian based superheroes.

And yes, you might have noticed that there is a casting announced for a ‘Lyta Hall’ in the upcoming Sandman adaptation in which she will be played by Razane Jamal. But I doubt that version will have any sort of sort of connection to either Wonder Woman or her new Post Crisis mother Helena Kosmastos nor will there be any connection to Lyta in the comics beyond being ‘widower haunted by the ghost of her husband’, interestingly enough, no word on Hector either. If he was cast, it’s unlikely that all the stuff about him being Hawkman’s son will be included. They might have him pretend to be a variation of the Jack Kirby Sandman or something similar depending on how the rights worked out.

Not gonna lie, I’m surprised that the Wonder Woman comics never attempted to reclaim Lyta Hall especially when the movie lead to a huge resurgence in the Steve/Diana pairing.

Anyway, this is got kind of long but Hector is easily the most fascinating Dr Fate after Kent and Inza.

Also check out this blog for more Hector stuff.

So after Hector and Lyta were attacked in the Tower of Fate by the Spectre, Nabu took over the helmet and amulet and fought the Spectre. The former perished during the fight and at the end Captain Marvel/Shazam tossed the helmet of Fate into space so ‘fate’ will decide who will be the next Dr Fate.

5/7 Kent V Nelson: ‘The Forgotten Dr Fate’

Kent V is easily the most overlooked Dr Fate. He was the latest one to wear the helmet before the Nu52 reboot in 2011, what’s more he is the only Dr Fate whose writer died over the course of penning his story.

Kent V Nelson was introduced in Countdown to Mystery #1, prior to that there was a series of one shots titled Helmet of Fate in which different characters from the DCU came across the helmet from Zauriel to Black Alice to Detective Chimp and had to decide if they were worthy of being Fate.

Kent V Nelson was created by Steve Gerber for Countdown to Mystery, he was a psychiatrist who was happily married and had a daughter but he blew it all by having an affair with a university student. After his wife left him, Kent started to fall into depression but still continued with his practice but one of his clients, who was being possessed by a demon, had a psychotic episode that lead him to shoot up a Las Vegas Strip mall. Kent was sued by the victims for malpractice and he ended up homeless as a result.

It’s during these bouts of dumpster diving that he encountered the helmet of the Fate. Initially using it to cover his head from the rain, the helmet taught him his own past and also took him on a tour of his own. Kent also pissed off a demon of hell making an instant enemy.

Kent also his helmet for gambling. At some point, a series of unfortunate events lead to Kent having a mental breakdown resulting in a suicide attempt leading him to meet a woman named Inza. Not the old Inza but a different one sharing the same name. The implication being that this guy is not just a long lost relative of the original Kent Nelson but a possible reincarnation..

Kent V’s origin story didn’t have a definite ending due to complications the writer Steve Gerber had. After he passed away, several writers wrote their own endings for Kent’s story. The events happened but the end result was always the same: Kent becoming Dr Fate.

Kent did go on to join the JSA during Bill WIllingham’s run when Flash sought him out for help in dealing with a super villain attack. But alas his time was short, the JSA had bloated into Legion levels in terms of characters on it’s, so he barely got any screen time and the in 2011 DC rebooted with the Nu52 thus his time was cut short.

At this point, a lot of long time Dr Fate fans bemoaned the ‘musical helmets of Dr Fate’ that the mantle had become. After DC had rebooted with the Nu52, a new Dr Fate debuted:

6/7 Khalid Ben Hassen: ‘The Precursor’

Khalid debuted in James Robinson’s Earth 2 title after the Nu52 reboot the DCU. The JSA were back on Earth 2 but now they were younger, hotter and given contemporary origins with no relation to WW2.

Khalid was working with Kendra Saunders working for a group called the World Police when they stumbled upon a tomb in ancient Egypt. Kendra gets her Hawkgirl gear while Khalid gets the helmet of Fate.

Khalid is notable for being the first Egyptian to become Dr Fate. He communicated with Nabu both with and without the helmet but his main achillies heel was his declining mental health after he takes off the helmet. Khalid spent a lot of Earth 2 babbling nonsense next to other characters. It’s also notable that his Dr Fate didn’t have a partner like the previous Fate’s did. Kent had Inza, Erica had Linda and Hector had Lyta.

After James Robinson left the title, Earth 2 turned into more of an Injustice style fight fest where heroes were killed off, often violently against an evil brainwashed Superman. The title ended on a happier note, with the good guys managing to eke out a victory and a new Justice League forming but they haven’t shown up since.

Earth 2 was very polarizing especially for long time JSA fans. It depends on how important them being tied to WW2 and being older heroes. A big part of the JSA’s appeal was that they were the old guard mentoring the younger heroes. They represented the history of the DCU. To some writers, this was a boon. To others this made them outdated and unappealing to younger new readers. Hence the constant cycle of the JSA being killed off or replaced by younger, hipper counterparts (like Jared Stevens on this very post) only for the classic versions to make a come back at some point.

The Khalid incarnation of Dr Fate didn’t stay dead, he would reinvented for the main DCU as part of DCYou, which brings us to:

7/7 Khalid Nassour: ‘The Forever (?) Fate’

Introduced in DCYou mini, Khalid was the grand nephew of Kent Nelson, his mother Elizabeth Nelson was his niece and she got inspired by archaeology from him. She converted to Islam and married Muhammed Nassour and they had a child, Khalid Nassour.

Khalid was a med student in NY stumbled upon the helmet of Fate in a Museum and after meeting an Egyptian Goddess pretending to be a cat. He realizes that he has aptitude for magic and later he is mentored and guided by his grand uncle, Kent Nelson.

Khalid was at one point possessed by Nabu who wanted to destroy all magic on earth. Eventually his grand uncle passed away and Nabu died JLD Vol 2.

Khalid has also been adapted in YJ S5 as one Zatanna’s magical proteges focusing on his struggle as a med student who also uses magic as well as the struggle between his faith and the fact that he uses magic.

Khalid combines elements from his previous Dr Fate’s, he is related by blood to Kent much like Kent V was and he even finds the helmet under benign circumstances and he shares a name with Khalid Ben Hassen. However it does feel like he is missing something.

While Khalid is a great character in his own right, he is missing some elements that made the other Dr Fate’s stand out. The question is what separates the helm of Fate from other objects that grant great power like a GL ring or invoking the name Shazam?

As pointed out earlier, the other Dr Fate’s had a disturbing and eerie quality to them. Even Hassen suffered from mental break down because of the helmet. Dr Fate represents the dark side of the wish fulfillment aspect of superheroes. The helmet is more of curse and rarely a gift. It drains the user. It’s also serves as a metaphor for co-dependent relationships, having to share your partner with someone else, repressed childhood trauma and having to sometimes literally grow up fast. While this is common in superhero fiction, it feels even more pronounced in Dr Fate and there are story lines you can explore with Nabu that you can’t with Batman, Green Arrow or whichever character is meant to serve as a challenging mentor figure.

It’s weird that the last two Dr Fate’s didn’t have a love interest and they are both poc. Perhaps more so than any other character, Dr Fate needs someone, a friend or lover to stand besides them and point out how screwed up their situation is and provide a third perspective.

Also, it would be interesting if we had a gay Dr Fate at some point or an asexual one. Just to see what the relationship dynamics of that would be like.

As for why there have been so many Dr Fates, well part of that is due to Kent and Inza never having true successors. As you can see, attempts at successors never really stuck and there is a constant back and forth between bringing back the ‘classic’ Kent and Inza duo or trying again with someone new or someone tangentially related to the original. Nabu going from a neutral force to an antagonistic one to a down right evil character, dying and then coming back again, has become a running gag at this point. The same goes for the Tower of Fate being destroyed, which, much like the GL Corps getting wiped out or the Central Power Battery getting destroyed, has become a running gag at this point.

Right now, DC seems committed to Khalid Nassour and it will be interesting to see how long he remains as Dr Fate or if there will be a different Dr Fate in the future.

It also seems like DC wants to skip past any Dr Fate that existed between Kent and Khalid. Which is sad, because I would like to see someone take a crack at Hector Hall or the Eric/Linda duo (without the creepy romance element).

Recommended Reading For Dr Fate

(If there is anything you would like for me to add, remove or specify let me know)

For Kent & Inza:

Immortal Doctor Fate TPB (Kent & Inza)

Doctor Fate Vol 2 26-onwards ( Inza as Dr Fate)

Wonder Woman Vol 2 #76

Spectre Vol 3 #16

For Eric & Linda:

Doctor Fate Vol 1 4 issue mini (Eric & Linda)

Dorctor Fate Vol 2 #1- 24 (Eric & Linda)

Additional reading:

Invasion #1 (holiday 1988) Justice League America #31-32 (Oct - Nov 1989) - Linda as Dr. Fate Justice League America #40 (Jul 1990) Justice League Europe #7-8 (Oct - Nov 1989) - Linda as Dr. Fate Justice League International v1 #10 (Feb 1988) - Eric and Linda as Dr. Fate Millennium #3 (Jan 1988) Millennium #5-7 (Feb 1988) Spectre v2 #11 (Feb 1988) Spectre v2 #23 (winter 1989)

For Jared Stevens:

Fate #1-23

Book of Fate #1-12

Scare Tactics #1-12

For Hector Hall:

Infinity Inc #1-51

Sandman Vol 2 #11-12

JSA Vol 1 #1-80

Doctor Fate Vol 3 #1-5 (mini series)

For Kent V Nelson

Helmet of Fate (series of one shots)

Countdown to Mystery

Reign in Hell

Justice Society of America Vol 3 #30-35

For Khalid Ben Hassen

Earth 2 by James Robinson

For Khalid Nassour

Dr Fate (201) as part of DC You.

Justice League Dark Vol. 2 (2018)

Justice League Vol 4 #59-71 (as part of the JLD back up series )

Justice League Vol 4 #72-present

95 notes · View notes

constellaj · 4 years

Note

just ran into your art today and. would you like to elaborate on your gay lucky in love rewrite 👀

boy would i

as always shoutouts to @crystalfloe for pitching + workshopping w me on this, ESPECIALLY on this one since it was mostly her idea!

we open up with a shot of shadow circling through amity park, looking in the windows of various citizens. danny is face-down, fast asleep; valerie is repairing some gear; tucker is being a gamer; sam is watching a horror movie; paulina is also watching a horror movie. shadow passes by all these houses and gets more and more annoyed, until he peeks the window of a large, elaborate house:

dash has drawn the curtains, turned the lights off, turned a fan up. this is his deep dark secret. he’s sitting on his bed, face lit by the dim rose glow of his laptop. the volume is turned down so low but the viewer still sees and hears him whisper along to the movie: “but we could never be together, jessica...” “but... I love you...” he’s watching a HORRIBLY cheesy hallmark romcom.

but of course nobody can KNOW he’s into chickflicks and romcoms! he’s a tough football man and it would trash his rep if anyone knew he secretly craved those deep but silly romantic stories... the tenderness, the love...

shadow has specifically been looking for a romantic.

shadow slips in and ‘possesses’ dash. possesses in quotes, because, well, even though dash is dumb and therefore easy to possess, shadow is ultimately a glorified dog, and not a fully sentient ghost; he doesn’t have any total agency in dash, and the most he can do is mess around with his emotional and hormonal balance. shadow is DISMAYED, upon entering, that dash’s deep romanticism is so repressed, and so immediately gets to work digging it out of the recesses of his brain, putting it in the forefront.

(see, what danny and the audience will learn later is, shadow is a ghost that subsists off of love. romantic love especially. he first found a ‘host’ in johnny (before he died!) because johnny and kitty were madly, ridiculously in love, and johnny especially admired kitty beyond words. they still do love each other, of course! but like all healthy relationships, they’ve learned to take breaks, and they have a ‘break week’ once every few months.)

(this, naturally, drives shadow up a WALL; after a certain level, displays of romance become like dog treats, and shadow has been downright spoiled by the overabundance of love between the two. when they take a BREAK WEEK and aren’t constantly showering each other (and therefore him!) with affection, he needs to go find another host, because clearly they do not love him and have forsaken him. they kick miette.)

since shadow’s prime host for so long has been johnny, his understanding of a few... norms... are bleeding over. dash shows up to school with a leather jacket and a motorcycle (his family’s rich, of course he’s had one). his hair is slicked back and the cologne is overpowering. while danny and others think it’s just another asshole stage of dash, kwan (as well as the popular kids, but kwan especially) notices something’s wrong. it’s not quite... dash.

yeah, he’s happy-- well, he’s also strangely flirty with everyone (shadow is testing the waters, trying to find out who is the best match). and kwan LOVES that he’s happy. but he’s a little too daydreamy, he laughs a little too long. he is having horrible luck all day, but he just keeps taking it in stride. dash is concerned with appearances, but this is the first time he’s put in effort like it was for other people to see. he’s a little too suave. his eyes reflect just a little too much light.

and then-- luck of luck-- shadow finds the big name repressed crush.

fenton! of course!

danny did NOT want to deal with dash towering over him and slamming him into the wall, but he didn’t KNOW how to deal with dash leaning over him and telling him he looked cute. danny’s flustered! of course he is! well, yeah, dash is an asshole, he knows that, yeah he’s a stuck up rich kid, YES SAM, he knows this (sam is not fooled by a little hair gel and some high heeled leather boots), but you can’t deny he’s, well, built. and he’s weirdly suave? and nice. he’s actually being really nice. what no of course DANNY hasn’t had a crush on DASH this whole time or anything. shut up.

the fact that dash asks him to meet him in the woods at lunch (because sam, jazz, and even tucker are increasingly concerned with dash just making moves on danny, afraid it’s some new form of abuse; and lancer keeps perceiving it as bullying since that’s their dynamic and breaking it up) and he GOES is just. well. that’s unrelated isn’t it.

they kiss and danny is starting to maybe think dash just had a homophobic middle school experience like everyone else when- his GHOST SENSE GOES OFF. RIGHT HERE? RIGHT NOW??? (gee what could be causing it?) dash cracks a joke about him using too many breath mints and danny panics, bullshits an excuse, and runs off to transform and find the ghost.

dash thinks he’s been rejected and almost shakes out shadow’s possession from the sheer dismay, but shadow doubles down. no, no, we can find another crush. somewhere.

...oh hey! the ghost boy!

time to double down on the ghost aesthetics.

danny’s just finished fighting kitty (”where’s your boyfriend” “that’s none of your BUSINESS!”) when there’s a motorcycle rev underneath him. there’s... dash, again, but.... something feels very, very wrong.

danny lands, cautious. “hey phantom... you into biker dudes?” “don’t you have... a boyfriend...” “heee sorta dumped me in the woods”. and then danny gets close enough for his ghost sense to go off. and it clicks.

“dash, you’re possessed”

this is the ONE THING that shadow can’t have. this could be the perfect romance, and THIS GHOSTCHILD thinks he knows more about ROMANCE than SHADOW??? PSH. cue fight scene! dash of course is grappling with both not wanting to hurt phantom, but wanting this ghost out of his system, because of COURSE he’s possessed geez why else would he want to kiss FENTON of all people-- but shadow REFUSES to leave, slowly building more and more monstrous elements onto dash, darker eyes and claws, erasing his legs until it’s not dash as much as it is a large shadow monstrosity with dash at the center.

danny eventually realizes he needs a new strategy and runs for it. after a decent amount of bickering with sam/tuck, they realize that the only ones who would know how to tame shadow are.... kitty and johnny.

turns out, when shadow went missing, kitty NOTICED. (johnny didn’t! he was having a fun alone time working on his bike with loud music.) this is bad. why? well, johnny is NOT a very powerful ghost. in fact, he’s sort of the opposite. he and shadow have a symbiotic relationship of sorts; it’s shadow’s residence in him that gives him any powers at all, like the basic healing factor a ghost has, or phasing, or flying. without shadow he’s essentially a zombie, who can still be hurt in the ghost zone. NATURALLY, kitty decided to run off and retrieve shadow (because this isn’t the first time he’s run away on break week, always throwing a tantrum) before anything horrible could happen to Johnny; this is what she was doing in Amity in the first place

this is the part of the story where i reveal that the ending isnt fully fleshed out yet. in the rough conversation right it ended up with kitty and johnny trying to FORCE shadow back into johnny, and they’re getting annoyed by it, and kitty goes “well this wouldn’t be a problem if YOU weren’t so LOVING AND SENSITIVE” and johnny goes “well i wouldn’t LOVE YOU so much if you weren’t BRILLIANT and BEAUTIFUL” and they have a whole argument like that. its very funny. and shadow ends up still running away and possessing dash again.

ah, in typing this out, i have figured out an ending!

the above fight and run away happens, and there’s two endings: one where shadow possesses dash, and one where shadow possesses danny. in both, of course, the other party realizes the only way to get shadow out is through making shadow feel safe enough to leave, aka... flooding the room with romance. if dash is possessed, danny and co. realize that danny’s the prime candidate to... be the suave lil boy. if DANNY is possessed, sam and tucker begrudgingly explain that, uh, yeah, phantom might have a crush on you, he’s just really controlling of his emotions. (also kwan! kwan definitely plays a part if dash is possessed, maybe even in saying “uh... he has a bigger crush on Fenton. can you guys get him instead?” and danny. explodes)

blahlbahblah luring shadow out by being gay happens and shadow gets scooped back up by the 13s. as much as the previous argument is funny it might also be very funny if johnny literally noticed none of this, and kitty shows up like ‘you lost this’ and johnny is like. ‘...shadow? when did you leave’. anywho.

that’s the concept! the MAIN difference is that johnny and kitty actually have a very healthy and sweet relationship, and the conflict, ironically, comes from the fact that they love each other TOO much. i do love ‘dash finds out’ reveals but as far as an episodic romp goes, this might not be the best ep for him to discover the secret in. however in a oneshot or something of course you could slot that in there excellently i believe.

#danny phantom #dash baxter #fic #ish... sort of. not really i guess LMAO #ask #dashposting #lucky in love #johnny 13 #kitty 13 #Anonymous #adpRewrite

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bakingandbooks3 · 4 years

Text

Wick and Flame

Ahhh my beautiful people! I’ve written again:) This time it was a bit more angsty- Nesta confronts Rhys. I was planning on posting weeks ago but recently had to get surgery. Here it is, I hope y’all love it!

TW: Mentions of Sexual Assault and violence...

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Rhysand.”

“It’s High Lord, to you.”

“I never once asked to serve you. I could call you many things but the most prevalent to me is my sister’s assaulter.”

A silence swept over the room.

Feyre had planned a lovely evening for the Inner Circle to regroup after the successful invasion of the Autumn Court- Eris’s coronation. It was safe to say Nesta wasn’t enjoying herself in the slightest, and was enjoying herself significantly less when Rhysand started making innuendos about Nesta’s past and worthlessness.

She was here for her sister and was trying to be more involved for her sake. But, she missed the quiet of the mountains, and Emerie, and the children she read to. And Cassian.

Everything went to hell after Rhysand asked if she convinced Eris by coaxing him into bed. Nesta launched back with how he’s no better of a man than Eris is.

Rhys growled, “That wasn’t what that was-”

“Oh really? Just because you two are happy now you think that erases the things you did to her? The things you-”

“You know nothing Nesta-”

“I know more than you think,” Nesta fumed. “I could tell from the way she talked about it, Under the Mountain, that something had happened to her. And just as I suspected you did it. But, why should I be shocked in the first place? You sexualized my teenage sister the very second you saw her. She was nineteen, Rhysand. Would you deign to tell us about that sick infatuation of yours?”

From across the table, Nesta could see the shadows bloom over the singer and the seer look down at her plate with wide eyes, Morrigan gripping her glass tighter and saw Cassian flicking between both sides. Would he pick her or them? It didn’t matter though, because who she cared about confronting was gritting his teeth and holding the jewel ordained knife like a weapon.

Would he use it on her?

“Say it. You touched her, you touched her. You took my drunk little sister and touched her in front of everyone! Do you know how I know this? Do you know how I had to figure this out? I read it in her body language for months, and then last week when I had to go on a mission for you, when Cassian and I had to risk ourselves for you, when you used him and me as bait for you, I found out from Eris.”

Mor flinched, the name a slap. Oh, maybe Nesta had made a mistake.

“Mor… I apologize for being brash… It wasn’t kind of me. I’d like to continue speaking but if you’re uncomfortable you can leave.”

She shifted, “Anything he says is valuable… I- I think I should say.”

Nesta’s heart broke a bit, she wasn’t quite fond of Mor yet, and her obscene relationship with Cassian did not please Nesta, but she was trying. Nesta was trying.

“And what did that snake tell you, dear sister-in-law? What did he say to poison you further?” The High Lord was shaking now, his wife shell-shocked beside him.

“That snake told me you made her drink till she was sick on your boots, and he told me the things you did to her. All of it. And I refuse to speak any more of it because it is not my story to tell, but just know I have no intention of forgiving you for this any time soon.”

The air seemed a bit thicker, the food colder, and the people gathered around the table duller. Of course, she ruined it.

She always does.

The silence dragged on until the violet-eyed man said the irreversible words, “ And why would I care about the forgiveness of an alcoholic whore?

The impenetrable line had been crossed.

Nesta let the tears well in her eyes as she hiked up her skirt, maintaining as much modesty as one could, and ripped the dagger out of her garter and stabbed it into the high-lords mahogany table.

Everyone at the table jolted. Seven sets of eyes widened at the sight and Elain visibly shuttered.

“You don’t know the slightest thing about me, Rhys.”

The man before her was trying to keep his composure but was lacking. His poor table.

“I was nineteen the first time a man did something similar to me.” Once Nesta saw she had their attention she continued, “When we were little, shortly after Mother died, the three of us were thrown into a life we never asked for. I, being the oldest, was automatically deemed to be the “new” mother, but Cauldron forbid ten-year-old me was slightly lost on the ways to be a mother. I was never the best sister or the most present, you of all people don’t let me forget, Rhys. I tried, I wasn’t great and I wasn’t the most helpful, but I tried. I would steal Feyre’s extra money to get iron bracelets to fend ourselves against people like you, I would take money to repair the ax I used to cut wood, I would spend some on buying cheap daggers to arm myself when I had to experience the ways of the world on my own.”

“And what did you have to experience, Nesta? Abandoning your sister? Making her hunt for you? Doing-”

“I never asked Feyre to do anything!” Nesta raised her voice for the first time. “I never once asked her to go, in fact, I told her not to. I am… grateful for what she did. But that should’ve been our father- no child should have to provide for them self. So, your absolute blessing of a wife never took the daggers I got, never wore the bracelets, and she trekked on. I never took them because in actuality they were hers to use. I felt like she needed more protection than I did.”

Nesta was trembling now, she had never quivered once in front of these people but she needed to- she needed to tell them.

“I went to find a suitor, a man to marry so that there was one less mouth to feed and one less body to take up the bed. I found Thomas, a poor man who I despised but he was willing to wed. His father beat his mother and I knew I was bound for that eventually, but I thought I could take it. After months of courting, he asked for my hand and I said yes. I wasn’t happy, but in the worst of ways, I thought I was helping my sisters by leaving them.

“When Feyre was taken… I had a lot of time to think. And when I wasn’t thinking about her I was thinking about how miserable this life of mine would be. It dawned on me one night that this wasn’t what I deserved. I went to his sham of a house and asked to go our separate ways.”

The room was spinning, Nesta sat down. She breathed and took note of everything she could, the color of her dress, the untouched plate, the napkins.

“It was night, my hair was down and I was just in my nightgown. I remember being cold and tired, I had spent the entire day trying to find a hole in the wall so maybe… It doesn’t matter anymore. Just as quick as I told him no… he had my hair in his hands and had me pushed on a bed.

She paused to breathe a racking breath. “I never cut my hair short because my mother would tell me how beautiful it was, I’m starting to think I should’ve.”

Nesta whispered the last words. Calm down. As her eyes fluttered around the room she kept going, no one stopped her.

“Do you know how easy satin rips? Too easy, but it was cheap and all we could afford… In twenty-eight seconds I had everything ripped from me. My pride, my clothes, the very little that was left of me…”

It was so hard to breathe, so hard.

“I took the candle from his bedside table and burnt it into his back to give me a second to get him off of me. I wasn’t nearly strong enough but I was able to hit him over the head with the candle-holder.”

Nesta stopped. She said enough. You said more than enough. She breathed, one, two.

She gripped the handle of the weapon before her and removed it, strapping it back to her thigh. “This dagger in your beautiful table is what I keep attached to me, I sleep in it even. because the things I left unsaid are worse than you can possibly imagine, and I hope to never endure them again.”

“High-Lord of the Night Court, I do not owe you a thing. I do not owe you my time, breath, or story. Your cousin and wife have had experiences similar to mine, one of them your personal doing. You will not call me a whore. You don’t know the half of my life. You know nothing more than a page in my book and I won’t allow you to write me as your villain.

“Unlike my sister, I didn’t fall in love with the man who wronged me. I’m just tainted by the scars he left behind. If she is happy I will not speak of my disgust for you, but just know I have every damned reason to despise you.”

Nesta pushed her chair away from the table and regained the queen-like frost of hers.

“I’m leaving. Feyre, thank you for the lovely dinner, I’m sorry I ruined it.”

She turned to Rhys.

“As for you, I’ll have you know this whore has better places to be than here. At least the men I gamble with in bars don’t assault women.”

And with her crown of clear flames, Nesta walked away.

taglist: @perseusannabeth @nahthanks @sayosdreams

#cassian #nessian #acotar #nesta #nesta archeron #acomaf #acosf #acowar #nesta x cassian #a court of silver flames #nessian fic

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//broken pieces. miya atsumu//

Request: Yeah, by a lot of you. But me too, tbh

Warnings: very mild implications of sex, low self-esteem, some swearing, infidelity

Word Count: 2,1K

Notes: things i need: cuddles from bokuto, sleep, and a cherry vanilla coke. But, the coke first please.

{Read Part I - “Missing Pieces” HERE}

{Read Part III - “Two Pieces” HERE}

He didn’t want to look at you. He didn’t want to see what he already knew. If he looked at your face and saw all of those brand new tears streaming down your cheeks, everything he had just done would finally hit him. He’d have to face the fact that he alone ripped your heart out of your chest and tore it to shreds.

He was quick to cover his torso with a new shirt. Quick to cover up the physical reminders of his sins. But, that quiet nickname, the name that you’d been calling him since you met, the name that he’d come to love so much, the name that left your lips in the most intimate of moments was now filled with sorrow. The heartbreak evident in that single word kept echoing through his head, reminding him off all the times that he’s laid awake, listening to your quiet sniffles because of him. Because he was far less than everything you could have wanted in a boyfriend. Because he kept all of his emotions bottled up inside his chest and just shoved you out when things got hard for him.

He didn’t want to look at you. But he did.

You didn’t look angry. Atsumu would’ve preferred that to this. He would have preferred that you sat there and yelled at him, calling him every explicative in the book. He was well aware that he deserved it, but you showed no intention of taking all of your pain out on him. Rather, you just sat on your side of the bed, sad eyes staring at his swollen kiss-ridden lips, at the deep bruises that crept up his throat, at his blonde hair that had had a set of fingers that didn’t belong to you raking through it only a mere hour earlier. The soft glisten of tears on your cheeks and red puffy eyes being highlighted in the rays of the setting sun. You kept looking like you wanted to say something, but every time your mouth moved, you would catch yourself just letting out a quiet whimper instead of words and clamp your jaw shut again.

Atsumu didn’t want to look at you anymore, so he turned away. He turned away and those missing pieces to the puzzle that he had been keeping from you had been crumpled to an irreparable state. He turned his back on apologizing, shame washing over him as his own words failed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block your image from his mind. He didn’t want to see the black stains of mascara adding to the pained expression.

It didn’t matter what he wanted though, because no matter how many times he tried to steer his mind away from everything, he’d remember your bright smile there to greet him after practice every day, your eyes crinkled in happiness as you would lean up to kiss his cheek, but just as soon as those mental images would start to warm his heart, your face would morph in his head. He’d be right back to the present image of your face branded into his memory.

There’s a soft sniff and the bed springs squeak as you get out of bed.

“I’m sorry.”

Those small words leaving your lips felt like a knife to his heart. You were apologizing to him? Why? He was the one who ran off and cheated. He should be the one on his knees, grovelling for forgiveness, but rather, your head was hung as you stood behind, your words still fresh on your lips.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make you happy, ‘mu.”

Another stab. There was a tremble in your voice. He knows that tremble. It’s always there when you’re upset. He used to hold you against his chest and quietly tell you that everything was going to be okay while tears left damp circles on his t-shirt. Atsumu couldn’t remember the last time he had done that though. It’d been a long time, that’s for sure. He’d been pushing you away for months now, the shame of his lies bubbling up in his chest every time you would look into his eyes. It was better to just keep you at an arm’s length and let him work through everything himself. He thought that maybe this would make him feel better. Maybe if someone else was there to tell him how great he was, he’d get out of whatever slump he was in, but he just kept burying himself deeper and deeper into this pit, desperately trying to crawl his way up and come back to you.

But, he never could.

Every inch of progress he made, he would lose his footing and slip further away. It was wrong and he knew that the very first time he let some other girl touch him while he was out, but Atsumu’s mind played games with him. Somehow he had convinced himself that every “I love you,” every “You look so handsome, ‘mu,” had been fake, that you were saying everything you did to him because you had to. Hearing those same things from a different pair of lips, well, that would fix these feelings, right? His name falling from someone else’s mouth in breathless whimpers would make him feel better, right? Someone else telling him that they loved him would take away all of these insecure thoughts, right? But, no matter how many times he left a bar early to go home with someone new, Atsumu was left feeling emptier than before.

“Are you happy?” Your hand is on his back now, fingers lightly grazing the area that you had remembered seeing those bright red lines. “With her, I mean?”

There’s a soft hiccup from the man in front of you as his head falls. He had always been good at hiding his short whimpers of approaching sorrow, but the way that his shoulders shook as those crystalline tears finally spilled from his brown eyes gave him away in an instant. Your arms found themselves wrapped around his torso, holding him tightly against your body, the same way that Atsumu used to comfort you.

“I don’t get you,” he whispered, his voice straining to push through the rock in his throat. He had ruined everything. He had been the one to take those pieces that could’ve fixed everything and he had broken them. But, here you were, trying to pick up those broken pieces, attempting to squeeze them back together, so you could finish the puzzle and make it beautiful again. “I- I do this and-” Atsumu pauses, taking in a strangled breath, trying to blink away the salty drops that blurred his vision. “And you’re apologizing to me. I don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough, Atsumu.”

He wanted to go back and rewrite every part of the story. He wanted to erase everything and go back to when things were happy and the two of you would spend nights giggling as you tried to recreate dumb TikTok dances, when you would chase him around the house, both of you sliding across hardwood floors in socks. But he ruined it. He ruined his relationship. He ruined you.

You stood there this entire time blaming yourself. Believing that all of his actions were your fault and that if only you had shown him that you cared more, he would have been happy and he wouldn’t have felt the need to cheat. Your constant apologies hurt him more than any amount of screaming could have. You could’ve kicked him out, told him that you never wanted to see him again, and none of it would have hurt as much as this. Those genuine apologies escaping you just rammed the knife deeper and deeper into his chest.

But, he deserved it, didn’t he? He deserved to feel the same level of anguish that you felt. If this was as easy as a screaming match, Atsumu would just be left numb with anger, heaving for air. He would’ve said things that he didn’t mean and you would’ve walked out for sure. He didn’t deserve to be held in your comforting embrace, to have your head pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, mumbling apologies against the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

The croak of his voice caused you to lift your head, but when Miya Atsumu finally turns to face you, to face his mistakes, he just presses you into his chest. Maybe it was the old comforting feeling of having his arms around you, being able to smell his cologne that you loved so much, or maybe it was the wave of realization that, no matter how hard you wanted to, you couldn’t just look over those broken pieces that had been ruined by a couple’s insecurities. They would always be a part of the picture that encapsulated your relationship. They were battered and weary, but they were there, never to be forgotten.

The two of you must have been quite the sight, really. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, the light of day long gone, bodies racking with sobs, not able to do anything else but cry and whimper soft apologies against each other’s skin.

“I’m such a piece of shit. I don’t know why you’ve put up with me this long, Y/N. I’m a lying, stupid, cheating piece of shit and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his tears dampening the top of your head.

“B-but, if I was better for you-”

“Please, stop blaming yourself. This isn’t your fault. You were always good enough, princess. I was the weak one. I was the one who wasn’t good enough for you and I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough.” Atsumu’s voice is soft and sincere, each word slipping out without a second thought. He was as calm as he could’ve been given everything. His eyes had started to dry as they had finally run out of tears, mouth dry from all of those shaky breaths between mournful weeps. He wanted to place a kiss on your lips, make you feel all of the love that he genuinely still held for you, make you feel every apology that he couldn’t figure out how to voice, but he knew better. It wasn’t the time. His actions had already caused so much damage, driven the wedge between you so deep that he wasn’t sure if it could ever be fully removed and repaired.

He felt you shift in his arms, your fists balling up the front of his t-shirt in pent up frustration. “I don’t want this to be over, Atsumu. I really don’t, but if you don’t love m-”

“Y/N, I do love yo-”

Atsumu wasn’t sure what took him more by surprise: the weak fists pounding against his chests or the sudden change in the volume of your voice that inevitably ended in a sad crack as misery crept back into your heart: “Then why the hell would you do this to us?!”

“Princess, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want an apology anymore! I want an explanation, Atsumu.” The fists that had been battering him had become slow as any hope that had remained when it came to putting the pieces back together slowly dissipated into the realization that this was probably it. You could try all you wanted, but you’d never be able to make the picture look like it should. “Please.”

That plea had him pushing you away, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. But, he placed a gentle hand on your knee as he sat down next to you, urging you to meet his gaze. Atsumu always kept his emotions right there behind those gentle brown eyes. Every single ounce of love, remorse, and desire to put all of those pieces back together stared right back at you.

“Then, let’s talk, because I don’t want this to be over either.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #miya #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya x reader #atsumu x reader #imagine #x reader #i really wanted to make this angry #and break them up #but then i kept getting really soft #because i genuinely do think that he loves reader #and i think reader really loves him #even if he is a dirty cheater

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ladydorian05 · 4 years

Text

A life in retrospection

(pic credit: @a7estrellas)

#Pedros12DaysOfChristmas

Hello @scribbledghost !!! I couldn’t wait, I’m your Secret Santa darling!!!!!

I really, really, REALLY hope you like this. This is actually the third try at writing your gift, I dot nervous and the self doubt worm hit me hard while writing. You mentioned you wanted ‘talking’, well my on the first one it was more talking than anything and was such a mess that I knew no amount of editing would fix it. I didn’t erase it completely I used some parts for the second one that served as the foundation for the final one.

It’s still a little bit of a mess, I suck at choosing titles and maybe the ending is a bit rushed.

Edit: Forgot to mention, Miss Daisy belongs to Scribbledghost, from her neighbour Whiskey series, check it out, you won’t regret it.

A life in retrospection

Soulmate AU!

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x fem character (a name is mentioned so it’s not THAT reader friendly)

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, lil bit of depression, Jack goes to therapy so expect to read a different man (we really just yeeted a whole man and turn him into a better one, the beauty of fanfics), fluffiness, this man is not afraid to cry, allusions to spiciness but just implicit.

Words: 3K and something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t believe this was his life now.

He thought as he watched, through a window from the inside of his warm home, as the snowflakes fell outside.

Couldn’t believe he was capable of feeling such happiness again, not after everything he’s had to live through.

A few years ago, he almost committed the biggest mistake of his entire existence, condemning millions of people just because of his trauma. Good thing a pair of gentlemen helped knock some sense into him. Literally. And god bless Champ for giving him a second chance, since then, his life had been filled with second chances.

He finally went to see the Statesman therapist and work through his issues, he gave himself a second chance, to heal, to see the world in a different way.

What he never thought he would get, was a second chance at love, at being loved, but his beloved’s favorite pastime was to just prove him wrong every chance she got.

And prove him wrong she did.

Everyone has a soulmate, even him, and just like everyone else’s, his soul mark appeared on his thirteenth birthday. Right there, the name and the first letter of his soulmate’s last name etched into his skin in his soulmate’s handwriting and just like everyone he had been excited.

He spent countless hours staring at the letters on his wrist, studying the beautiful, soft and round letters, some of them just a breath away from being cursives. Always wondering when and if he would be able to meet the person they belonged to.

As the years passed, he became more aware of how small the chance that he would actually meet his soulmate was, and while he kept wondering about them from time to time, he didn’t stop himself from falling in love with someone else.

He shared many years with her, they got married just as they were fresh out of college, neither of them caring that they weren’t each other’s soulmates. Marriages like theirs weren’t rare at all, after all the world is way too big and life too short to spend it looking for one person.

Yes, life is short and it can be so cruel to the least deserving. The day he lost both his wife and unborn son was the day something inside him broke, something he thought could never be repaired again. He fell in an abysm of self blame that in time turned into bitterness and hatred for those who fell in the clutches of illegal substances. He really thought he would never love again.

Until one day. One fateful day thanks to a mix up with his order at his favorite coffee shop, he met her, his beloved; when their drinks had been served in the wrong cups by the new barista in training.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, what were the chances that said woman would turn out to also be his soulmate. From the moment he saw her he felt drawn to her. He knew it, the moment their fingers touched when they exchanged their cups. Something in him shifted with a rush of emotions, leaving him breathless.

Hell, even now she still leaves him breathless.

They had spent the rest of that day getting to know each other, they talked about everything and anything, as if they were old friends seeing each other again after some time apart. He had heard the stories multiple times, people would talk about how they felt the moment they found their soulmate, they all paled in comparison to the overwhelming feeling of being know in such a way by someone you had just met.

He felt so blessed just being able to be in her presence.

Indiana, Indy, his love, his Moonshine, the light of his life that pulled him out of the remaining darkness inside him. You gave him a second chance at love, at actually feeling alive and not just living. And he took it, he would’ve been and idiot if he hadn’t.

They decided to take it slow to truly get to know one another and see where this connection of theirs would take them. After all, not all soulmates went on the romantic route; some, were just destined to be platonic and neither option was better than the other, that’s just the way things were.

But after many dates, after both bared their souls to one another, they were happy to discover that all along there had been something growing between them and that the feeling was mutual.

They shared their first kiss beneath a starry sky, she had taken him to her favorite spot in the city, maybe the stars weren’t as visible as in other places due to the light pollution of the city but neither of you were really looking at them, too lost in one another. After that night everything fell into place.

In the following months, they spent as much time as they could together, lunch breaks, dinners, weekends at each other’s apartments watching movies, talking about work, about anything and everything.

After Champ had notified him that he was going to be allowed go back to field work, he invited you to dinner at his place. He decided to tell you everything then and there, about his wife, about his work; he had previously asked for permission for the last one, assuring his boss that this was serious and that he trusted you completely, he even told you about what he almost did during the whole Golden circle fiasco.

He had expected to see some kind of horror or judgement written in Indy’s face when he finally lifted his head when he stopped talking, he should have known better. He found understanding in your eyes, you told him how proud you were that he looked for help after everything he went through and that ‘James Bond job’ or not, you would be there for him.

You had also added an ‘Of course your alias is Whiskey!’ that made him laugh, but that was beyond the point.

You only asked, that every time he was to go on a mission that he’d let you know, and if he had to leave at a moment’s notice, he would call or text you as soon as he could, you also asked him to be careful.

“We just found each other I don’t want to lose you.” Were your exact words. He remembers because he kissed you as soon as you said them, it started slow and full of gratitude but it soon changed into a passionate one.

That had been the first of many nights, and mornings, he got to share his bed with you. You moved together shortly after that night. Going to bed every night and waking up with you at his side soon became the highlight of his days, if he could he would spend a lifetime just lying with you in bed. He savours every moment he gets by your side.

He had been sure, long before the date of your first year anniversary approached; both of you chose it to be the day you met; that he wanted to be there for you, he wanted to protect you, to make you as happy as you make him, to be anything you needed him to be, a friend, a lover, a life partner; you just had to say it and he’d do anything become that person.

He made a decision. They had already discussed the subject of marriage on more than one occasion, so he was sure it was something you would want or wouldn’t be opposed to it eventually. He still thought about it, long and hard for days.

After his first marriage he never thought he would be open to, well, any kind of relationship that went beyond one-night stands, but that was before therapy, before he worked on the demons inside his head; and now, now he just hoped you would be willing to take an old man as your husband. Again, he should’ve known better.

He planned everything, a romantic dinner at good restaurant; not too over the top fancy but with good food; then he would take you on a romantic walk through Central park, he knew of a spot that had a beautiful gazebo with a view to a pond, he decided he would ask you there; and of course, he sent to polish his mother’s ring.

She gave him the ring some time after his wife passed away and made him promise that he would only give it to his soulmate if he met them. His parents had been soulmates, and his grandparents as well, she explained that the ring had been in the family for many generations and more times than not the marriages had been between soulmates, maybe she believed the ring would bring him luck in finding his own.

With everything carefully planned, he just had to wait for the day to arrive.

But even the best-laid plans, often go awry.

The date fell on a Friday, he was just about to clock in when he received a call from Champ, he and Vermouth; previously known as their Ginger ale; where called for an emergency mission. A Band of extremist where planning a bombing, they got the location of their hideout and were tasked to take them out immediately.

While the mission wouldn’t take him to the other side of the planet, it would take him to the other side of the country, he knew even if they hurried up, he wouldn’t be back in time for the reservation; in fact, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t be back until midnight.

He remembers how much he had apologized to you as he called you on the Statesman’s plane, and bless you and your beautiful heart, you took it in stride, telling him it was fine and that you could celebrate the next day, that all you needed was for him to return to you safe and sound.

And he did just that. At around two in the morning, he opened the door to the apartment he shared with you, he left his hat and jacket at the entrance. He was beginning to un button his shirt when he saw you sleeping on the couch, a box of pizza on the coffee table and the tv still on.

It made him feel guilty but it also warmed his heart that you had tried to wait up for him, he decided against waking you up. He turned the tv off and took you in his arms, you only stirred a little bit before your breath evened out again. He placed you on your side of the bed and tuck you in; he took all of his clothes off except for his briefs before joining you in bed.

The next morning, he stirred awake at the feeling of your lips leaving small kisses all over his chest.

“Mmgood morning Moonshine.” He said, his voice rough from sleep.

“Good morning to you too, cowboy. Sorry I woke you up, but I couldn’t resist.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, love. Can’t think of a better way to wake up.” He had pull you closer to his side, your head resting on his arm. “’m sorry I missed our anniversary.”

“None of that Jack, I told you it’s okay. Besides, you can always make it up to me.” You said with mirth, running your hand up and down his torso.

He chuckled. “What did I do to deserve you?” he muttered as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

Both of you stayed quiet, just enjoying the moment, basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms; until he broke the comfortable silence.

“Marry me.”

The words had just slipped through his lips. He knew neither of you really needed fancy restaurants or romantic venues, you just needed each other. So, what better place and moment to ask you to be his wife, than in the warmth of the home you shared, lying in each other’s arms in their bed.

“What?” He felt your hand stop its movement right on top of his heart, he was sure you had felt how fast it was beating.

“I said, marry me, Moonshine. Please?” You sat on the bed, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Jack Daniels, you better not be joking.” You had pointed a finger to him.

“Tell me my love, if I wasn’t serious, would I have this?” He said as he also sat on the bed and reached inside of the drawer of the nightstand, taking the velvet box in his hand; not the best hiding place but he hadn’t planned for it to stay there for a long time; he opened it to show you the ring inside.

“Oh my god Jack!” you covered your mouth with your hands as your eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

“Indy, Indiana, my love, my Moonshine, my soulmate. You have no idea how blessed I feel to have you in my life, there aren’t enough words in the world to help me express how much I love you, how much you mean to me. You’re an amazing person, so kind, intelligent, strong and beautiful, and I’ll be more than honored to be your husband, if you’ll have me.” He held his breath as he watched you process what he just said.

He was beginning to get worried when you just sat there for a few seconds, that felt like an eternity to him, staring at him without saying a word. You took him by surprise when you jumped into his arms, just as he was considering on telling you that it was okay if you didn’t want to or that you could take your time before answering.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes Jack! Of course I’ll have you!” By the time he got the ring on your finger both of you were a sobbing mess. He didn’t let you leave the bed until way past noon, and only because neither of you had had breakfast. He had to take good care of his fiancée.

The wedding had been beautiful, only your closest friends and family were invited to the event.

Sometime after the wedding, Champ asked him to move back to Kentucky, he offered him a promotion, he offered him his own position in Statesman, saying that he was ready to retire and that he thought that, out of everyone else, he was the best candidate for it.

His past self would have jumped at the opportunity, not only would he be in charge of the intelligence agency, he would also become the major stockholder of the distillery; but he wasn’t that man anymore, it was a huge responsibility, even if it came with its benefits.

And he had a wife. Your friends lived here, your work was here, you had built a life for yourself in this city long before he came into your life; he couldn’t just go home and tell you ‘Darling, guess what? We’re moving to Kentucky!’ and he refused to leave you behind.

He thanked Champ for the offer and asked him for some time to think about it. He told you about it as soon as he got home. He told you that he couldn’t just ask you to leave what you worked so hard to get behind and follow him down south.

You let him speak, you let him ramble on and on about why it wasn’t a good idea, he also listed some of the positive things that came with accepting the promotion.

“Wait a minute.” You interrupted him in the middle of his tirade. “As the head or director or whatever you guys call it, you would be permanently stationed in Kentucky? As in no more field work?”

“Well, yes and no. At first yes, Champ will have to show me the ropes of everything, then I’ll probably still be active for some years but then well yes, eventually I won’t be sent on missions as frequently as right now. There’s also managing the distillery and that means normal corporate stuff like business trips and all that; it won’t be that different from what I already do here.” You nodded at his words.

“Do it. You have my support.” His eyes widened at that.

“But, but Moonshine, what about your work!?”

“What about it? I’m sure I can request a transfer, and if not I’m sure I can get a new job, it’s not like we’re moving to the middle of nowhere; I could also become a free-lancer.” You listed. “Listen Jack, if moving south means you’ll be risking your life less and less as time goes on, then we’re moving south.” And that was the end of the discussion, he knew the decision was made.

He let you choose the new house, he only asked for enough land to get a horse or two in the future; he was dying to take you on romantic rides; and you chose a beautiful roomy one, neither of you wanted to dismiss the possibility of children. The extra points of the house were the beautiful chimney inside and the fire pit on the back porch, it also had a barn not far from the main building.

And it was good that the house was quite large because half a year after moving in, he convinced you to go with him to a local farm animal expo on his day off. As you browsed through the various handmade items in display, he stumbled upon a woman selling teacup pigs, and while he had always considered himself more of a horses and dogs person, his curiosity got the better of him.

They were so adorable, one in particular caught his attention, he couldn’t resist the adorable beaded eyes looking straight at him; before he knew it, he was making his way back to you holding the little piggy in his arms.

He got a “Jack, why are you holding a pig like a baby?” from you the moment you saw him.

“Because she is! Just look at her she’s so cute, she’s my cute little lady.”

The conversation about the new member of their family continued on the way back home.

“I hope you’re not thinking about letting her stay inside the house once she begins to grow.”

“What are you talking about? Miss Daisy’s a teacup pig; she’ll only grow an inch or maybe three at most.”

“Oh, so it’s Miss Daisy! She already has a name and all that. I’m warning you; I’m not going to pick up what Miss Daisy produces after eating.” You said. “Wait, teacup pig? You are aware there’s no such thing as teacup pigs, right?”

“What do you mean? The woman said they were all teacup pigs.”

“Oh my god. My love, you have been deceived.”

He may not know a lot about pigs, but he couldn’t believe that that sweet woman had outright lied to him, right?

Wrong. Like always, you were right, and he fucked up. At least he eventually convinced you to let him keep Miss Daisy inside. She’ll always be a baby to him, no matter how big she got.

And then, he became an actual father. It wasn’t enough for you to give him so much love and happiness, now you had given him the greatest gift of all. She was perfect, from her tiny nose to her even tinnier toes.

If he had cried when you agreed to marry him, and cried even more when you gave him the news of your pregnancy; he was sure he cried a river the day their daughter was born.

Here he was, years later, still madly in love with you, still feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

He was brought back from his memories by a pair of hands sliding around his middle from behind.

“Hey, I made hot chocolate, want a cup?” He turned around to properly face you, a big smile on his face. “What? Do I have some coco powder on me?”

“No,” he shook his head “no. It’s just, well, you just took my breath away.” He said wiggling his eyebrows up and down in the way he knew always made you laugh.

“Pffff, Jack, I married you, you can stop saying stuff like that.”

“On the contrary, Moonshine, I shall keep on stating the truth of how my stunning wife makes me feel every single day of my life.” He leaned to give you a sweet short kiss.

“You haven’t answered Mr. Daniels, hot chocolate or do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Mmmm, I’ll have the chocolate this time, gotta honor the drink that brought you into my life, Mrs. Daniels.” He pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s gotten into you today?” You asked, laughing softly as the hairs of his moustache tickled your upper lip.

“Nothing, just been reminiscing my happiest memories. Want to know a secret?” He whispered the question. “They’re all about you.” He leaned in for another kiss when the voice of his little girl calling for him reached them.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look! Look at Miss Daisy! Isn’t she pretty?” He turned his head from his Moonshine as his daughter came running up to them in her cute pajamas, just in time to see Miss Daisy as she came waddling behind his lil’ sweetheart wearing a pink tutu, a tiara and he noticed her glittery pink painted hooves.

“Wow, sweetheart! She’s really pretty!” He tried to sound excited for his daughter’s sake, but he knew it came out more strained than he wanted.

She giggled before running off back to her room, with, once again, Miss Daisy running after her.

“Want me to google if that nail polish could be potentially harmful for her while you put our little tornado to sleep?” God bless his wife.

“Yes, please.” He let out a sigh. “You’re amazin’ Moonshine.” He turned back to you before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I got you, cowboy.” He had to separate from your arms so he could go help their daughter keep her bed time schedule, otherwise they’ll surely have a cranky child for most of the next day.

“Hey honey! You want a bed time story?” he heard a distant ‘yay’ and a couple of snorts in response. “Be right back babe.” With a wink as he walked towards their daughter’s room.

Maybe he’ll never get used to this much happiness in his life, but he’ll never complain, what were the odds that he would meet his soulmate and build a beautiful home and a beautiful family with her. He must have done at least something right if he got to live this life.

And he will live it, to its fullest.

Tag list (do let me know if anyone wanst to be tagged in future works):

@oloreaa

#pedros12daysofchristmas #agent whiskey #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x fem! reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x fem! reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #kingsman agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle whiskey

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elatedmarvel · 4 years

Text

Arms

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky learns to accept all parts of himself, even the vibranium parts.

Word Count: 5,353

A/N: This is the longest one shot I’ve ever written, and it took me like a month. (I’m very slow lol). In keeping with BLM and inclusion, please let me know if you feel the reader is described a certain way that is not encompassing of all. I’ve tried my best, but I’m only human and editing is hard. Hope you enjoy!

He remembers when he first woke up with it.

He could have sworn that he was dead, and he was in hell. All he could feel was pain everywhere, but specifically in his left arm. Pain he had never felt before and now he thinks he’ll feel forever. His parents always joked him that he would go to hell if he didn’t stop flirting with every skirt he saw, and now he wishes he could tell them they were right.

Voices float above him, but he can’t make out what they’re saying, everything sounds garbled and distorted to his ears.

It takes a moment for him to realize that the men are speaking in a different language.

Blinding white lights greet him as he opens his eyes and squints against the harshness. Silhouettes of shapes is all his brain can comprehend, and he blinks a few more times before he is able to actually see.

The dingy room has seen better days. The walls are lined with tile, with mildew and mold in between them. It’s dark everywhere else, except the bright light that shines down on him.

It’s hard for him to move his head side to side, let alone move the rest of his body, but he tries to wiggle his toes and fingers.

A metal appendage lays at his left side.

He stares at the foreign object, trying to make sense of the fact that he can feel his left arm, but what he sees is not the limb he remembers.

His brain commands him to lift it, to see if this was real. When it not only moves where he wanted, but he can see his fingers wiggling, he realizes that this is worse than hell.

He runs his right hand up the entire metal limb, and he can feel the dull sensation. His panic increases the higher he can feel metal. He gets to the edge of his chest before he feels flesh and bone again.

Gasping, he claws at where the foreign object meets his chest, trying to get it off of him. The more awake he becomes, the more pain radiates from the arm, like his body was rejecting it.

His sudden movements and noises of pain alert the men in white coats around him. He’s sure his eyes are frantic; he must look like a caged and frightened animal.

They rush to him, trying to undo the damage he has clawed in.

When they get close enough, he grabs them both by the neck, trying to protect himself. This only causes them to start shouting and the doors burst open.

It’s hard for him to process what is happening, all he feels is adrenaline pumping through his body, and it reacts accordingly.

He can feel the pop of the bones before he hears the sickening crunch. If he was more aware of what was happening, he’s sure he would have thrown up.

The man he grabbed with his left hand falls to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

In all his time serving with the howling commandos, he’s killed a few people, but never as intimately. He could just pull a trigger, throw a grenade, or stab someone. He’s never had to look them in the eye, and feel the life drain out of him.

Sweat and fear pour out of his pores now, he didn’t mean to. His hand moved faster than he could react.

Not his hand, the weapon attached to him now.

The shouting only gets louder around him, but it’s muffled now. He stares in horror at the metal fingers, and the lifeless body on the floor.

He can’t even feel when they prick him with a syringe filled with tranquilizer.

The image burns itself into his mind as everything grows dark.

The next 10-15 years follow the same pattern.

He wakes up slowly out of cryo. In his groggy state, he panics every time he sees the arm. He goes to claw at his chest where it is connected, but he’s eventually stopped when they realize he’s awake.

They try to break him.

Hydra does everything they can, any form of torture. But he’s strong. He resists every attempt, and finally they have had enough.

One day, they plop him in a metal chair and run currents through his skull.

It takes 2 more years of this before finally he stops scratching at the arm. Before he fully loses himself.

~~~

When he finally escapes from Hydra’s grip, he hates the arm with everything in him. He tries anything he can think of to remove it from his body, short of just cutting into himself more.

The arm only causes death and destruction. It is synonymous with Hydra and the evil he unwittingly committed.

He still remembers how they thought they bestowed a great gift upon him, making him into the fist of Hydra. They think they saved him, but they chipped away at his soul until there was barely anything left in him.

When Shuri was kind enough to erase the trigger words from his brain, she had offered him a new arm. One that was not tainted with the bloody memories of Hydra.

It took him months of therapy, and many long, late night talks with Steve, Natasha, and Sam to accept the arm. He wanted to repent for the blood he has spilled, intentional or not, and he couldn’t do it with one arm.

It was beautiful, gun metal grey with gold intertwining the plates. It reminded him of the exhibit that Steve had dragged him to at the Met.

Kintsugi, Steve had told him. The art of repairing something with gold.

“It was never broken to begin with, just being made whole and better” Steve had said to them as they wandered around. He pretended the tears in his eyes were from the dust in the museum, and lightly punched Steve on the arm.

~~~

You were in the ring with Sam.

Someone new, and that scared Bucky. He had slowly built a relationship with the rest of the team in the last few months he had been at the compound, and trust didn’t come easy. Countless nights he would be invited to movies, or dinner and drinks. He turned them all down the first few weeks he had been there. It wasn’t until Sam and Steve literally dragged him to the bar that he started to open up.

You somehow got along with everyone on the team, and had won everyone over in a matter of weeks. You geeked out over the newest electronics with Tony, and tried to help Bruce with his research. Wanda and you had holed up in a room for days binging the newest season of some reality show you loved. Natasha and you had survived multiple Barre classes, something that even made Sam cry. You and Steve had even started painting to Bob Ross videos together.

It was like there was a you-shaped gap waiting to be filled on the team.

He watches from his sparring dummy as you tease Sam. You dance around him easily, and dodge out the way of yet another unsuccessful punch.

His sensitive hearing picks up on Sam’s heavy breathing, but anyone could see the exacerbated rise and fall of his chest, and the buckets of sweat gleaming under the fluorescent lighting.

You laugh as he tries to distract you with a kick and punch from opposite sides.

“Nice try birdy” you call out as you evade him once more.

“Stay still!” Sam huffs, he hasn’t felt this out of shape since he was a chubby 13 year old with a love of cheetos and hate of exercise.

In his last effort to take you down, he swipes left and right, never giving up. You move further and further back, unsure how to handle the sudden change in tactics.

You don’t notice how close to the edge of the ring you are.

Tony, being the dramatic shit he was, decided to build the sparring ring higher up then normal. Like a pedestal he once proclaimed. He wanted all to be able to watch.

Sam and you had forgone putting up the side ropes, wanting to get in as much sparing as possible.

The fall was probably only a few feet of the ground, but definitely enough to sprain something, or even worse, get a concussion.

He sees you near the edge, Sam still swinging a way. His lust for revenge prevented him from seeing you were about to fall.

Bucky leaps the 10 feet in between him and you right as your foot falls off the edge. He reaches up and puts most of your weight on his left arm, catching you before you fell to the floor, holding you for a few seconds before slowly bringing you to floor level.

He sets you down gently and almost laughs at the comical expression on your face. Eyes wide and jaw dropped, unable to comprehend what had just happened in the span of a few seconds.

“I-I… thank you” you stuttered. Stilled flustered by the fall, but even more flustered that it was Bucky that caught you. You two had maybe exchanged 20 words total in the 2 months that you had been on the team.

Bucky does a once over at you before nodding and walking back to the sparring dummy.

Sam watches this all with amusement, before coming down and offering to buy you ice cream to make up for the fall.

~~~

Hit. Block. Punch. Duck. Repeat.

Watching you take down your opponents was like watching a ballet. You were graceful, and lithe. Moving with your counterpart, they never even realized you were a threat until they were out.

Since your fall a month ago, you and Bucky have been growing closer. It was hard not to when you were so light and bright. It blinded him slightly, before he grew accustomed to the warmth he felt when he was near you. Now he never wanted to be parted from it.

Naturally, when this mission had come up, Bucky had begged Steve to pair you with him. He knew he would only have peace of mind if he was with you at all times.

Not that you needed the help.

About a dozen men lay sprawled around you, and the last three were soon to join their colleagues on the floor. If they weren’t such vile men, he would almost feel bad for them. Being laid to waste by someone who didn’t look like she could hurt a fly.

He registers the movement about a second too late, his mouth won’t connect to his brain and shout what he wants it to. One of the men you had already taken down lifts his head and arm, he just sees a flash of silver in the man’s palm before he sprints the length of the room. Your back is to him, and you still have 1 more attacker to take down, he takes all of your attention.

It happens in a second. You take your final shot at the henchman and then you see Bucky running to you. You feel the warmth of him as he embraces you, pulling you forward. The momentum causes you to stumble and brings you both down, you on top of him.

The ping of the bullet is thundering in the echoing, concrete room. He barely even registers the feeling before pulling out his gun and shooting the attacker. Watching for a moment to make sure he was actually dead, he looks down at you.

“Bucky” you stutter out, and he can feel your slight tremors. The whiplash must be settling in and the adrenaline wearing off, not a fun combination.

He looks you up and down, and even though he knows he blocked the bullet with his vibranium arm, he can’t help the anxiety that rises in his chest. He doesn’t see anything wrong besides the bruises and small scratches.

Meeting your eyes, it instantly takes the breath out of him. The look of pure awe spread on your face, but he can feel the admiration that is in your eyes,

It takes everything to not close the 5 inch gap to your lips and see if they are as soft as he’s imagined.

“You ok?” he asks one more time, voice cracking from the dryness in his throat.

You nod up at him, keeping eye contact.

Without a warning, you press your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” you say profusely. You move to sit on top of him in a flash and grab his left arm. He’s powerless underneath you as you examine the shiny appendage.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, wonder in your voice as your fingers graze the sides of his arms. He’s glad for the pain he endured when they fitted him with this new arm, he can feel the softness and warmth of your hands, almost like if it were his own flesh.

“No” he replies, eyes locked on where you hold his wrist.

Gently, so gently he can barely feel it, you press a kiss to the slight dent where the bullet impacted. Now he swears he’s died and gone to heaven.

There’s a lingering heat where your lips touched, maybe even burning.

If his mouth was dry before, it’s now the desert, and he clears his throat before looking away. His face is hot, and he’s thankful for the dim lighting in the basement.

He misses the sly smirk on your face before you get up and offer your hand to him.

~~~

After the mission, you had gone with him to get his arm repaired. He tried to tell you that it would take a few minutes at most and you didn’t need to go with him, but you just smiled and led the way. You held his flesh hand while they fixed some wiring issues and un-dented the hand. If he squeezes your hand more often than necessary, then who would know?

One month passes and he is always at your side. He goes more often to movie nights, team dinners, and outings. There’s always a spot right by your side, and it takes only a few days for everyone to know it was reserved for a certain brunette.

The second month rolls around and it finds him as your permanent partner. Missions for two would always be assigned to you and him. You two would spar for hours on end, touches lingering for longer than needed. If you needed to run errands, he would be right there with you.

Month three passes in a loving haze. It’s rare to see one of you without the other. Even nights were spent in your room after you had both fallen asleep while watching Star Wars. You made him come with you to your yoga classes, and he made you go with him to cooking classes.

It’s like the sun had finally come out. The permanent scowl and dark circles were replaced with grins and smile lines. He can’t remember the last time he was as carefree as he was around you.

It was hard to ask you out. He was nervous. What if he misread the hand holding and cuddling? Could he go back to being just your friend if it didn’t work out?

But the moment he saw you across the gym, sweaty and heaving but with a giant grin on your face as you box with Steve, he knew it would be worth it.

So here he was, your favorite flowers in hand, buttoned up shirt and nice jeans adorning his body, walking to your door to pick you up for your first date.

In the back of his mind, he mocks himself for being so scared to ask you. Your face had lit up when he had.

Knocking on the door, he steps away and gives himself a once over. He tells himself he’s not nervous, but the erratic beating of his heart tells a different tale.

The door opens, and there you are. A vision in your favorite dress, small smile on your face.

All he can do is stare dumbstruck at you. While you were always gorgeous to him, the fact that you had dressed up for him makes him want to cry.

“Bucky?” you ask, waving a hand in his face and giggling.

“You’re stunning” he says back, hand coming up to rub his neck. He suddenly

remembers the flowers when he feels the water drip on the collar of his shirt.

“These are for you” and the smile on your face grows. You take a big whiff of them

before sneezing 3 times in rapid succession.

“Guess I got carried away” you giggle, and just like that the nerves fade.

The drive to the restaurant he had reserved was filled with would you rathers that made you laugh so hard, you couldn’t breathe. Your impression of the stuffy waiter had him choking on his water.

Everything was going so well, he let his guard down.

The men in ski masks that came from the kitchen to round everyone up were a shock to both of you. Instantly, people scatter, some making it out of the door in time, and others being held hostage and led to the kitchen.

You can both tell when they realize they have avengers in their midsts when the guns turn to aim at you. He flips the table to its side as you move to duck behind it. Drawing a gun from your clutch, you hand it to him. Bucky was always the better shot. And you arm yourself with a widow bites and click the button on your Stark Watch 3 times in rapid succession.

He hears the panic in their voices as they radio to each other. Obviously, they were not expecting any resistance, let alone 2 highly trained agents.

You look at him, and he knows exactly what you have in mind.

The moment you leap sideways and engage, he pops over the table and aims at anyone with a gun. You move quickly and gracefully around those that were foolish enough to actually engage you. He takes down as many as possible with the gun, and when the clip runs out, he engages the targets closest to you.

Soon there is only 1 left, shaking and yelling at you both to back up. Bucky is pretty sure he’s new, the tremor in his voice and hands gives him away. It wouldn’t be that difficult to take him out.

Bucky joins your side, and you both approach hesitantly, not wanting to spook him.

“Stay back” he yells. Bucky sees the glint of green before the man fully pulls out the grenade. His heart sinks into his stomach.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Bucky states, already wedging himself between you and the man. He calculates if there was anyway to get you out of the building.

“Just stay calm, we’re not going to hurt you.” You say, laying the widow bites at your feet. Bucky does the same with his empty gun.

His wild eyes keep glancing between you and Bucky. He slowly tries to inch his way towards the man, hoping he makes it to the grenade before he throws it.

The stand-still comes to an end when the man pulls the pin and launches the grenade in the air.

“No!” Bucky shouts, and he pulls you both under the nearest table, his body covering yours. The deafening blast goes off right as you both get under the table.

He feels your fast breaths against his chest, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck. Arms in a braced stance, supporting him as he tries to keep his weight off of yours. He’s pretty sure the table above them cracked with the weight of the rubble falling on it.

He looks down to your face and sees the fear in your eyes. It was one thing to be shot at, but another to be buried alive.

“It’s gonna be ok” he whispers, and you nod. You know that Bucky would do everything he could to get you both out. Forcing yourself to take calming breaths, you knew it wouldn’t help to panic right now.

Once he feels the dust settle, he braces himself against the broken table, trying to see if he could lift the ruble off of you both. There’s a groan as the concrete settles more firmly in place, but nothing lets up.

The Stark watch on your wrist vibrates, and though he can’t see the screen, he knows it means the Avengers are coming.

“Bucky” you say, voice trembling. It brings him back to the conversation you had about your biggest fears. Being buried alive was at the top of the list after falling into a pit when you were 7 years old.

“It’s going to be ok” he tries to reassure, but the fear in your eyes has him trying to break you out.

Slowly, he shifts his weight to his right arm, and braces the broken table with his left. Putting all his weight behind the vibranium arm, he pushes up. He’s not sure if the groans are from him or the concrete slabs, but he feels something pop and then shift above him.

Suddenly, the weight feels lighter and he can hear the concrete falling. Hope bursts in his chest as more light floods into the burrow and space starts to expand.

Moving his knees and feet, he gets into a crouched position to give himself more power as the rubble starts to fall away.

Your voice and encouragement gives him a surge of energy and he finds himself standing in the dusty opening of what used to be a restaurant.

“Y/n!” he calls as he moves back down and cradles you in his arms, lifting you on top of the pile of rubble.

“Bucky that was incredible!” you shout as he comes to join you and helps you down. Your arms come around his neck and before he knows it, he feels your lips against his. It takes a second for his brain to compute, and by the time he realizes that it was a kiss, you had already pulled away.

“Thank you!” you shout again with glee as he chuckles.

He tries to move in and capture your lips again, but the moment is ruined when a certain blonde super soldier clears his throat.

You both pull away, faces warm, to see the captain dragging to handcuffed criminals out of the wreckage.

“Glad to see you’re both alive.” Steve states smugly, shooting Bucky a not so subtle wink.

“It’s all thanks to Bucky and his amazing arm.” you tell him brightly, pressing a kiss to the vibranium bicep before jumping into to help apprehend the rest of the men.

Steve had never seen Bucky turn that shade of red before, and lets out a laugh as he escorted the men out of the restaurant and into the cars waiting outside.

~~~

You’re not sure what triggers it.

One moment you're laying on the couch with your head in Bucky’s lap, content and happy while watching a movie. You’re half awake, no idea what’s going on in the movie, instead paying attention to the way Bucky’s fingers glide through your hair.

It happens suddenly, and you jump up.

You pace for a moment, before breathing is hard, and the world starts to get blurry. A cold sweat breaks out all over your body and you swear you could throw up at any moment.

Lowering yourself onto the floor, you put your head between your legs and slowly start to rock. Blood rushes to your head, and all you can hear is the loud thumping of your erratic heart.

Everything is reduced to the few inches in front of your face, you almost don’t notice the cool hand on your forehead, pushing away hairs and trying to soothe you.

You focus on the cold hand moving from your head to the back of your neck, and then going down to stroke and pat your back, before starting the cycle all over again.

Bucky.

Slowly, you start to break through the surface.

It takes a few moments, but you start to hear his voice calling to you, and you want to follow the warm sound.

He moves your hand now to his chest, the gentle up and down continuing to bring you back, and it registers that he wants you to follow his breath pattern.

The first few are too shallow, the next few are too fast, but soon you match his calm in-and-out to a tee.

Your name, smooth and gentle in his voice, finally reaches your ears. You listen as he tells you how great you are at matching his breathing. He switches between compliments, random, one sided small talk, and humming.

The heat from his embrace and the coolness from his left arm creates a cocoon of warmth and safety, making you lose sense of time. The cramping from your legs is the only indicator that a significant amount of time has passed.

Sluggishly, you lift your head from Bucky’s chest and look up at his face. Intense blue eyes stare back at you, it’s not hard to tell that he’s trying to stay calm, but the slight worry in his eyes wasn’t hard to pick up on.

Laying your head back on his chest, you feel his arms start to slide under you. Soon enough, you’re lifted up and he’s walking to what you assume would be your room.

You close your eyes, when he doesn’t take the right to go down to your room, but continues straight into his wing.

“Thanks Bucky” you mumble as he sets you on his bed and gets in himself.

Face to face, you use your finger to trace the slope of his nose and the edge of his jaw before bringing your finger to outline his lips.

Pressing a small kiss to the tip of your finger, he smiles before leaning in kissing your forehead.

“I love you, doll.”

“Love you too.”

~~~

He can feel the drool on his face as he comes too. His face squished into the pillow underneath him, so hard, he’s sure he’ll have indents in his face.

One arm slung around a sleeping you, he breathes in, slowly waking up. Moving his arms, he can feel the soreness that settles in after a good night's sleep.

A small sniffle from the nightstand catches his attention, and he realizes why he woke up.

Gently, he crawls out of bed, and tucks in the remaining comforter around you, and grabs the device from the nightstand. He hopes you can get a little extra sleep, he’s pretty sure he fell asleep long before you got into bed.

Bare feet meet carpet as he paddles down the hallway, a short walk to his destination. He waits outside of the door for a moment, listening for movement in the room. When he hears shuffling, and another small screech, he opens the door.

Against the adjacent lilac wall, a white crib is placed. A sleep dischevaled baby stands, clinging to the bars, blowing spit bubbles and babbling to herself.

As soon as she sees Bucky, her arms extend towards him and makes whining noises.

“Hey baby” he chuckles as he steps fully into the room, and picks her up, nervous that she’ll start screaming if he doesn’t.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, patting her back, and checking to see if she needed a diaper change.

The raspberry she blows answers the question.

Gently and efficiently, he sets about changing her diaper, talking to her all the while.

When he sets her upright to try and find a new outfit, preferably one that doesn’t have stains but the options are slim, she squeals again.

Quickly, he picks her up and sways her against his chest.

“Shh shhh shhh, don’t wake up mommy, you kept her up half the night.” Bucky implores. She tilts her head up at the sound of his voice, her eyes slightly wet and he knows she can’t help it.

Rebecca was a good baby, usually did not fuss, ate like a champ, and slept well. But lately, she had been colickly.

It had panicked Bucky at first, thinking she was sick or he was doing something wrong. You had quelled his fears by showing him the small bump on her gums, signalling that she was teething.

Switching his right arm for her support, he brings a vibranium finger up to her mouth. Immediately, she latches on to the finger.

He can feel the nubs of teeth about to break through the surface, and lets her chew on his cool finger for relief.

It had started as a joke one day when the teething ring had melted and Becca still wouldn’t stop crying. In your half groggy state, you had stuck one of Bucky’s vibranium fingers in her mouth to let her chew on while you grabbed something else, he couldn’t quite feel the pain the same way his flesh fingers could. But, once Bucky’s finger was in her mouth, Becca happily chewed on it until she fell asleep.

It was well known now that wherever Bucky was, Becca followed, gnawing on his fingers.

“Does that feel better Becca?” she couldn’t even spare a second to look at her father, too busy drooling all over his hand.

With Becca in tow, he sits down in the rocking chair, hoping that he could get her to fall back asleep.

Holding her close, he hums some forget tune and rubs her back, moving them back and forth slightly.

The rigid dark grey was such a contrast to the soft baby skin around it, it startles Bucky sometimes.

The same arm that killed people and caused so much destruction was the same arm that his baby daughter used as a teething toy. She would never fear it, or see it as anything other than a part of him.

He’s unfamiliar with the emotion that bubbles up in his chest and the tears that build up. Sniffling himself, he presses a kiss to her downy soft head, and cradles her underneath his chin.

“You know, if it hurts that much, you can take it out of her mouth.” you say, startling him slightly.

Padding into the room, you perch yourself on the armrest of the rocking chair and tuck your feet under his legs. You reach a head out to caress Becca’s perfect cheek, brushing away a few tears with your thumb, as her eyelids start to droop.

“What are you doing up?” Bucky’s gravely voice cuts through the silence a few moments later.

“I had a feeling you were getting sappy with her again” you tease. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by without Bucky marveling or crying about Becky in the short 7 months of her life.

“I can’t help it, she’s perfect.” he whispers back, getting choked up again.

“Oh babe” you coo at him. Dropping to sit in his lap, you place your head on his chest, just above Becca, and wrap your arms around him.

He sits there for a while longer, slowly rocking back and forth. Every once in a while, Becca will snuffle and snore in her sleep and you both chuckle at the cute noises.

Sitting there, arms wrapped around the loves of his life, he feels calm.

He can feel your breathing start to even out as you follow Becca’s lead to slumber.

It still amazes him how much you both trust him. Never looked at the thing that made him a killer with anything but love, and never treated him with any differently.

There will always be scars, physical and emotional, but slowly falling asleep in his baby daughter's room, he knows everything will be ok. He’s not afraid anymore.

~~~

Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome!

#Bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x tony #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff

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haikyuu-imagines-blog · 5 years

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There are BoJack spoilers, so be warned.

There is something I really want to say about this show. I didn’t like it at first, I couldn’t even get past the first season. Let’s just say it was a battle for me to get back to it and watch it properly. And even after I started it again - it wasn’t easy to finish. After fourth season it got better for me and I couldn’t get away. The whole show always made me feel some kind of way and I think I just couldn’t face it. When I finished each season I felt like shit. It made all my negative emotions kind of bubble over the surface and suffocate me for a while. It made me notice them - if it makes sense.

However, this final was different. I have watched it and noticed that I feel lighter, better. It made me realise that similarly to all the characters of the show I was growing and changing, I was getting better. I AM getting better.

The ending was very bittersweet; we did not get closure with Hollyhock. And I understand why. Sometimes life and relationships are just like that. One day you are surronded by people and then they are gone, eventually you don’t even remember your last meeting. There is no explanation and you have to live with it. You have to let go.

With Diane it was a bit different I guess. It was a very unhealthy relationship from the start, and even though I believe they loved each other in a way - it was time to let go. They couldn’t offer themselves anything else. Diane was simply fed up, she was eaten away by Bojack’s problems and had draw some boundaries to survive. I think BoJack also wouldn’t be able to fully recover with her; I don’t think he could stop himself from depending on her in any way. However, I still think their friendship held something valuable. As Diane said - some people help you become who you are, even if they are not meant to be in your life forever. They will always be old friends, but they had to say goodbye.

However, I think PC, Mr Peanutbutter and Todd will still be in Bojack’s life and it’s good. They may have some heavy history together, but not all relationships end, sometimes they grow and just become a bit different. It will never be the same, but that doesn’t mean it will be a bad thing. BoJack has still a lot of growing to do, what he has been through does not excuse him - it will never erase his mistakes. But he got a second chance to do better, to do good. Something that Sarah Lynn didn’t get. To honour her memory I think BoJack will try and become the best person he can be. It doesn’t mean he won’t make mistakes, he will just face them like he should. (I hope, at least)

I’m also thankful for the beautiful ending given to PC. I won’t lie - I was worried about her. She wanted to do everything perfectly and in solitude. Never relying on anyone in fear of showing weakness. Now, she can learn that allowing people to help and support you is not always because they pity you or want to humiliate you - it’s because they love you. She has a daughter, a husband, her friends and a dream job - she is doing amazing and I’m so, so proud.

Todd’s life seem to be going well too. I love how they summed up his relationship with mother. It is not perfect, she doesn’t really understand him - but they are trying. He is independent, loved and surronded by good things. I’m very happy for him.

The same with Diane, obviously. She has struggled for so long. With her family, identity, writing and depression. Her story was something that many people could relate to and seeing how she was fighting to recover and to be better just warmed my heart. I love the fact that she realised that she doesn’t have to write about sadness and pain to help people. She can write a normal, cheerful and great story and still save and change other people’s lives. She deserves love and happiness. All the best to her and her husband.

And lastly, Mr. Peanutbutter. I won’t lie - he was my favourite character from the start to the end. At first, I didn’t really know why. But I guess I understand the way he depended and defined himself by the relationships he had. He didn’t really listen but still wanted to repair everything that was wrong, even if his tries were simply unwanted or poorly executed. He wanted people he loved to be okay SO bad that he ignored the fact that they just wanted him to listen and be there. He couldn’t face problems properly. I’m glad that he decided to stay single to learn more about himself. It is what he needed. He focused so much on his relationships that without them it was no more Peanutbutter. For him it was like he ceased to exist. Being alone will do him good. I hope he learns to explore himself and be happy as an individual.

I also hope BoJack will be fine. I mentioned it already, but he still has to grow up. He so desperatly wanted to survive, that I hope after leaving prison he won’t go back to his old ways and become the person he wants to be. We can’t know for sure, but I do put my trust in him. Maybe, he doesn’t deserve it, maybe he does. I really don’t know.

The show ended and surprisingly everything is not worse now. I don’t think I need it anymore. I did my growing up and it has helped me enough. I am, too, ready to move on. I’m glad I came back to it and finished it. It has really changed my life and help me discover who I am. I don’t know if I’m all good now, but it’s going to be okay.

It was nice while it lasted, thanks BoJack!

#bojack spoilers #bojack #bojack horseman #netflix #bojack quotes #i know it long and im sorry but i had to say my own goodbye #thank you bojack seriously #there will never be a show like that again

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one-girl-once-upon-a-dream · 4 years

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Lucifer’s Challenge Ch. 1

Description: MC is finally back where she belongs, at the House of Lamentation as well as in Lucifer’s bed. Yet she is surprised that while sharing a room with him that he hasn’t taken advantage of her to the fullest. When she finally find out what has been on his mind shes shocked but shes very interested in hearing him out.

Warnings: fem MC, nsfw themes

Prologue here! Chapter Two here!

Title: Lucifer’s Proposition

MC knew Lucifer too well to think that he wasn’t happy that she was back. He acted calm and collected, not falling into the tizzy that his brothers had been in the past week since her return but she saw the smaller signs. It was the fact that he was working exclusively from home, even taking his meetings on conference calls so that he was never far away. It was the way that his door was always open a crack and that he was playing music he remembered she liked. They were all invitations for her, hidden ones that were meant only for her and ones she knew that he wished she would take.

Along with all these subtle calls for her attention was the one glaring sign that he wanted to be with her, the fact that they were sharing a room. This was of course blamed on the fact that her previous bedroom had been destroyed the day of her arrival. Mammon claimed that it was an accident, everyone was using it as a storage room and he just happened to use it to explore fireworks that mysteriously went off. No one else seemed to mind this and were more than willing to offer a place in their own bed for her but Lucifer had been quick to stop the war that was ushering in, saying with no room for argument that his room would be where she would stay. This of course didn’t actually stop the arguing but it at least turned all the anger on him instead of them all bickering among themselves.

MC didn’t mind this solution at all, more than willing to share the luxurious bed with the oldest, but she also didn’t buy that he hadn’t expected this. Mammon was not a master of stealth and the extra pillows, emptied dresser drawers and new silk sheets made her believe that Lucifer might have let this little mishap happen. She also didn’t buy that it was going to take months to repair the damage as he claimed but she didn’t argue, only bit her lip and nodded along to his explanations of needing a very specific and hard to find stone to make the proper repairs. There was nothing to complain about on her end, especially not as she thought about the last night she had spent sharing a bed with him.

Surprisingly though they hadn’t shared another night like that yet. There had been lots of touching and skin on skin, every little bit making her melt into the bed, but Lucifer seemed to be taking his time with her. She just hoped that it wouldn’t be a full year this time before he decided to take that plunge. She was thinking about it again that night, watching the door expectantly as she rubbed lotion onto her very exposed legs. Her sleeping shorts weren’t much longer than panties, leaving lots of soft skin to lure Lucifer in with. The clock chimed and right on time the door knob turned, just as MC stretched herself out on the bed with her legs kicking behind her.

“Why Luci if you don’t pull any all nighters I would think you actually want to spend time with me,” she teased when he entered, batting her eyelashes and crossing her ankles while propping herself up on her elbows. He smirked but said nothing as he undressed, not looking at her as he did so but making sure to keep his body turned towards her so she would get the full show. She watched with a tilted head, appreciating every line and curve that was exposed to her while he changed into monogrammed pajama pants. They were the type she was sure had to have an equally as expensive top but he chose not to put that on for which she was very grateful. This allowed her to feel nearly all of him as he flipped her with ease onto her back so he could cage her underneath him.

He brushed his lips to her forehead and nestled his nose in her hair for a brief moment before hovering over her. “And if I didn’t know any better I would think that you wanted all my attention, waiting here for me every night. Such a good girl, knowing who you belong to,” he chuckled darkly, the back of his fingers tracing her body with feather light touches. She shivered, toes wiggling and fingers clutching at the blanket as she struggled to dispel all the energy he seemed to fill her with.

“You did tell me that I was going to be rooming with you. I assumed that I meant I would be sleeping here. Or was I supposed to take that as a hint to sleep in front of the fireplace and become Cinderella?” she pointed out, bringing up her hands to rub at his shoulders, trying to keep them from going where they truly wanted. She thought that this was just their usual snippy banter but she was surprised to find his eyebrow raised in genuine questioning.

“Human fairy tales have no place here. But you have never been one to follow my orders before, I’m just surprised that you chose now to start … that isn’t to say I am upset with obedience,” he said with an air of dismissal but his eyebrows were still knitted together tightly, several hard lines wrinkling his forehead. MC couldn’t help but frown in return, shifting under him so she could sit up and look at him properly.

“Lucifer I’m not just here because you told me to be. I want to be here with you. I thought your offer meant that you wanted me here too … i-if I misunderstood I’m sorry. I know it's been so long, it's probably awkward and it's hard to just pick up where we left off and-” her rambling was cut off with a firm kiss. She sighed into it, hands finding their way into his raven locks and keeping him there. She feared what he might say when he pulled away so she was happy to live in that moment for as long as he allowed.

“Stroking my ego could be a dangerous thing but I can’t deny that I adore hearing you say how much you want to be here,” Lucifer said with their lips still brushing against hers. Her breath caught in her throat and she stared up at him with wide, confused eyes. He laughed at her expression, taking another kiss before pulling away to fully explain. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I was so quick to take you into my bed and yet I haven’t actually taken you yet, my love. Trust me it has nothing to do with not wanting you, you are the only one that I want MC.”

It warmed her immensely to hear these words and she hummed her appreciation of them but she pushed him a bit more “I sense that there is a ‘but’ that is coming with that statement?”

A sad smile graced his features, highlighting all of his hauntingly beautiful face. “I did miss having another intelligent person in the house. There is indeed a bit more to my desire for you. You really are the only one that I want but I know that I am not the only one that wants you,” he said, rolling over so that he rested beside her, pulling her in close with one firm pull “you mean a great deal to all of us. My brothers care for you just as much as I do, in that I have no doubt. So while I selfishly would love to keep you to myself, I can’t. It’s why I’ve restrained myself, I know once I have you it will be quite some time before I let you go again.”

Now it was MC’s turn to laugh. She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed as close to him as she possibly could, finding that comfort in being tangled with him. “Oh Luci I love that you think of your brothers so much,” she cooed at him, getting a playful growl and eye roll from him “but I love them too. The fact that I get to be in this crazy relationship with all of you is something I cherish more than anything. I may be yours Lucifer but they are mine. So as much as I crave you, I don’t plan on abandoning them just for you.”

It seemed like such a strange discussion to be having, soothing her partners' concerns that she wasn’t spending enough time with her other partners. She certainly hadn’t ever had to tell a partner that she planned on sleeping with several other people and the fact that he was now smiling about that declaration was hard for her to wrap her mind around. But that smile was enough to erase any unease that she might have. This was new territory for her but she was lucky enough to have a very good guide for this experience, someone who wanted to help her navigate it all so that everyone came out happy. That wasn’t to say, however, that he didn’t have his own agenda at the end of the day. MC was about to find out exactly what he really had in mind for her.

“I am very glad to hear you say that,” Lucifer said, MC feeling the rumble in his chest with every word. His arm was still draped over her waist, his hand had been rubbing circles on her lower back but was now dipping lower to grab a handful of her ass. It pulled her closer so that she could hear every word he whispered hoarsely to her “because I have what you could call … a challenge for you.” He emphasized this news with a lick up her neck that ended with a nip to her ear. Her body tensed as she forced herself to not whine and writhe under him, instead hoping her waiting patiently would give her some bonus points for whatever challenge he was about to lay on her.

“I meant what I said, I don’t plan on letting you go for quite some time once I finally have you. But I still dont want to deprive you or my brothers of your deserved time together. Plus let’s be honest, I like it when you’re all worked up for me and what better way than to get you warmed up with them,” he continued, the thought apparently as appealing to him as it was to her from the growing tent in his pants “so, my precious pet, what I want you to do is to seduce all my brothers before returning to me.”

MC couldn’t help but laugh, she hardly thought that something she planned on doing was much of a challenge, but seeing the sadistic glimmer in Lucifer’s eyes that followed she knew she had done the wrong thing. “You know I thought that might be your reaction,” he said, fingers digging into the flesh of her upper thigh just before the point of bruising “so that is why that was just the set up for my challenge for you. I want you to seduce all my brothers but in doing so you are not allowed to cum.”

Her mouth hung open, half lidded sultry bedroom eyes now wide open at such a demand. It just didn’t seem possible! “I’m not sure if you just have very high confidence in me or none in them. They are far from being bad in bed Lucifer, they are more than capable and in most cases very focused on making sure I get off. More than one of them seem to prefer that more than getting their own rocks off actually,” she laughed nervously, waiting for him to playfully scold her for denying his ridiculous request and use it as an excuse to punish her. Yet while she laughed his expression hardened until her laughter teetered off.

“I’m sorry, did I make it seem like I wanted this to be easy?” he said harshly, leaning away from their cuddly position he grabbed her face, tilting it up to meet his burning gaze “I am more than aware of what they are capable of but when you finally come to me I want you to be little more than a proper bitch in heat. I am not telling you to not enjoy yourself, I want you to feel as much pleasure as you can but your cum is for me and me alone. At least that is the first time you cum this trip, I won’t deny you forever … at least I have no intentions of that now.”

MC believed every word he said and each word made heat grow between her thighs, the thought of being edged so thoroughly burning her up. Still she wasn’t convinced that it was something she could possibly do, she only had so much control over that and the brothers could be unrelenting. “I want to try but Lucifer I’m not sure that I could, just biological wise. There is only so much I can do to stop that if someone else is trying so hard to make it happen,” she said breathlessly, not wanting to let him down in the slightest. Yet instead of disappointment MC saw a smile return to his features.

“You would really like to try?” he asked in nearly a purr, squeezing her cheeks just a little tighter as he waited for her to nod her agreement. Once she did he pulled her face close to his, his breath hot against her as he told her “Good. That’s what I needed to hear, since you are so willing I am willing to give you a little bit of help to accomplish this.” He then kissed her hard, his tongue in her mouth when she gasped but there was something different. It wasn’t in his usual dominating, exploring way, it felt somehow more deliberate as if he was spelling something out with his tongue. It definitely wasn’t any letters she recognized so she tried to ignore it and enjoy the kiss but before long her mouth was filled with a taste she could barely begin to describe. It tasted the way a lightning strike smelled, like burnt ozone and charred metal.

She was choking on the taste and she struggled to pull away as panic set in her chest but he held her firmly in place even as she moaned in protest. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. He rolled away from her as she gasped for air, every hair on her body standing up and her skin feverish. It took her a second to realize it but she had felt that once before, the night that Solomon had given her his powers. That had been the unmistakable feel of magic. “Lucifer what the fuck!” she hissed crawling away from him, she trusted that he would never do something to harm her but it still seemed rude to perform a spell she hadn’t been prepared for.

He allowed her to escape, giving her an apologetic look as he slowly reached for her hand. He inched towards her hand but allowed her to close the distance between them before he took it and spoke. “I’m sorry, I do forget that you aren’t used to things like that but I thought it was the best way to transfer the spell. Here take a look,” he said tilting her wrist up. She nearly screamed seeing what looked like a moving tattoo there, a sigil surrounded by seven runes constantly rotating around it. She huffed and tried to stutter through some sort of demand but he cut her off before she could get far.

“It can be removed quite easily if you decide that you don’t want to go through with this, it will be as painless as being put there. But if you chose to follow through in the challenge I have given you then this will assure you follow the rules. Each of these represents one of us brothers, once you have successfully seduced and brought us to bed they will disappear. And this seal will assure that you can not cum until all have disappeared. You will be allowed to feel every pleasurable moment up until the second you are to reach that release,” he explained almost tenderly looking down at his handy work before meeting her eyes once more. An intensity that she could nearly taste hung in the air when he asked “so what do you think, can you save yourself for me so that I can make you feel pleasure beyond that even found in the celestial realm MC?”

MC could only hear her own heartbeat but she felt her lips form the words she knew that Lucifer had been waiting to hear “Yes sir.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #polyship #fem MC #obey me shall we date #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer fic

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esapersonaquedesconoces · 4 years

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How Did We Get to This? (One-Shot) [Tadacup “Tadashi x Hiccup”]

Warning: This text contains thematic “Boy x Boy” or “Slash”; If you don’t like this content, I recommend you not read it. Story with a very cliché plot. If you do not understand something please read what is at the end of the story.

Narrate: Hiccup.

Dammit!. How did I get to this? I don't know, I really don't want to disappear right now, I want to get away from everyone and not go back to this damn hell they call university. But I know that will be impossible, since I do not have all the necessary resources to make the change I want. Although missing a few days from the university will not cause me problems, since I am one of the best there is here, but even so I am afraid of seeing those familiar faces again, I do not want them to make fun of me for what happened recently.

Meanwhile I continued walking through the corridors, which at this time were almost empty, wiping the tears that fell from my eyes for that confession on the part of the friends of my "ex-boyfriend", I thought that all this would be very bright colors , where love is what matters in a relationship, where everything you give is mutual and everything they said about us was only to annoy me; How wrong can a person be for love? How blind can you be for someone? And the most important question is "How do we get to this?"

Maybe it was because of the fact that I trusted myself with everything he said, what I really wanted to hear from someone other than my family. I don't know why the hell I fell before those beautiful charms. I wish I hadn't fallen in love with him, but sadly I did and still am.

At that moment, the scream of someone calling me makes me stop, I try to wipe away the tears that still fell from my eyes since I did not want anyone to see me cry, but when I turned to see who it was, some arms hit me on the torso of the person he least wanted to see. And yes, if you ask him, it was him, my ex-boyfriend "Tadashi Hamada."

- Hiccup, I've been looking for you.- Of course, as if that were true, but something inside of me wants him not to let go and to stay with me forever. I was forgetting all the evil that he put me through just moments ago.

- Forgive me for everything, I'm really sorry if you had a bad time.- At the moment of saying this, my anger and sadness floated back; so I got rid of his grip and then faced him.

- !Fuck Tadashi! How do you think I ended up forgiving you after what you did?.- I was shedding some tears that I couldn't contain anymore, I really don't care if he sees me cry since he's the cause of all this damage.

- Look Hiccup, I know that I did you a lot of damage and I know that I will not repair it with words or good actions, since this is unforgivable.- He took my hands and made me look him in the eyes, those who once looked at me with love and now they look at me with regret.

- But please forgive me, I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness, but you are an important person for me, so I do not want to lose you.- His words made me cry more, I wanted to jump, grab his arms and tell him that all this would stay In the past, that our love will become stronger in the future and that day by day this bad memory will be erased. But this is not so.

Life is not easy, we do not always get what we want since "Everyone has to settle for something at some point." And this is the time to settle for this, since he does not love me and never plows him, he only sees me as his "friend", and that for me is something questionable.

- How do you want me to forgive you ?; If everything you told me was a lie, you told me that you loved me, you told me that you are single and so many false things that I believed you. And now you come here to tell me so many things that are in doubt for me because of everything you have done. - At that moment my sobs became uncontrollable crying.

- B-But how do you know that? .- Apparently his friends didn't tell him that I met his true love of his life.

- I don't know, why don't you ask your girlfriend. - At that moment I decided to leave, so I turned around to leave, but at that moment they took me by the arm. Making him turn to see the person.

- Look, I don't know what they told you, but please listen to me ... - At that moment I interrupted him.

- Answer me this, do you really love me? Would you be by my side regardless of what they say about us? Is my love really valid for you? - I just bow my head, I knew that he was not willing to This, also I am not able to get into a relationship, and he already has one with Mérida DunBroch and I do not want to be the reason why they separated, even so I want to know if he really loves me or loves me.

- I... I don't know what to tell you, I'm really not sure if I like you as a boyfriend, or if I really like boys.- When I heard him say that my heart broke, I love him with all my soul, but I know that He does not feel anything for me, nor will he ever feel it, since that place is occupied by her, his girl, his girlfriend, the woman who convinced him to play with my feelings and my person.

- I knew you would say that, I just wanted to hear it from you; But he informed you that you no longer look for me, nor do I see that it is necessary for us to live together, nor that you ask me for forgiveness I do not regret what we lived, what we feel oh what I felt and much less will I regret meeting you, now that you have left me with the experience that not everyone tells you the truth.-

That was the moment when I left and left everything behind, now I have the idea of not caring about the future, nor the past, I only care about the present and everything that has to do with myself, I will not hold a grudge for That the only one that will affect him will be me, so yes, I say goodbye to everything, although it is not yet the time to leave the city or the university, but it is the time when people should not affect me.

I should no longer care what they say, or how my way of being affects their lives, everything will go to hell, everything I ever worry about will go to hell. And the change should be for my good, not for the good of others.

Goodbye Tadashi Hamada. I hope the love of your life does not do the same to you that you did to me.

Well as I said at the beginning of the story, I said that if something got confusing here I would write how it is:

1) Tadashi did not know that his friends had told Hiccup that their supposed [And I say supposed because it is not real] relationship, was only a challenge imposed by his girlfriend [In this case it would be Mérida who put the challenge].

2) Hamada believed that Hiccup was upset with why he made out with Merida at a party that Haddock was not made up to. But he found out from Mavis [Who is a great friend and partner of Hiccup, who knew about the "Relationship" that his friend and Tadashi had], and upon learning that the truth, Hamada believed that this would be the end of the game that He was wearing, so he decided to talk to him.

3) Merida and her friends [Moana, Ariel, Jack, Hiro {This would be a special case}, Guy, Kristoff & Hans] decided to tell the whole truth to Hiccup just to see him suffer and make fun of him. Since they are the typical group of bullies from their school. Which would be what happened at the beginning of the story.

4) "Everyone has to settle for something at some point." It is a fragment of a phrase said by the American singer "Janis Joplin".

5) And why this Ship? or Why the two of them? Easy, I love this Ship, but there is not much material of them almost anywhere [And the little there is in English] so I decided to collaborate with the community that loves this Ship.

And well if that does not answer your questions, you are free to ask what you want about the story. Like if you want more of this little One-Shot, you can ask for it and I will gladly write more.

Along with the above, if you want me to write about another "Ship" that you like or don't see much of (Example this), you can ask for it. But yes, be patient please.

And here as you can see, an attempt at drawing (I don't know how to draw, sorry.) No comments please.

#hiccup haddock #tadashi hamada #big hero 6 #big hero 6 tadashi #tadashi x hiccup #how to train you dragon: the hidden world #how to train your dragon #how to train a dragon 2 #fanfic #multiship and multiverse #multiship blog

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bucklesomeswashswan · 5 years

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At the Beginning (2/11)

Once Upon a December sequel Thank you to everyone who read and liked or commented on last chapter! It was lovely to get back into this story and have people respond to it! Sorry for the wait for this chapter. The holidays got in the way!

Captain Swan Steampunk Anastasia AU Summary: Emma might have thought her troubles were over after she defeated Gold, the leader of the Industrialists. But not everything is as it seems and Misthaven is in danger. Mysterious new faces and gangs lurk in the shadows as Misthaven struggles to find its footing in the power vacuum left behind when the Industrialists fell. Time is running out to regain control and alliances form and crumble as the betrayals come from those closer and closer to Emma. Will she be able to have the life she always wanted with her family and Killian or will the secrets from the past tear apart everything she thought she knew? Rated M AO3 Chapter 1 Start over with Once Upon a December [AO3]

Chapter 2: Life is a Road

Everything began moving quickly after Emma agreed to return to Misthaven. All night the guards worked to pack up the townhouse and prepare for their journey. As the sun rose, shining over the roofs of Glowerhaven the next morning, the final arrangements were being made. Trunks of elegant clothes and all manner of things from her new life as a member of the royal family were stacked in the entrance hall. Everything she might have come to think of as bits of her new home were wiped clean. Packed away and set to follow them by train later when they were safely settled in Misthaven.

Emma had barely slept, tossing and turning. It seemed like she hadn’t even had a moment to breathe. In the last few weeks she’d escaped out of Misthaven, reunited with her family and defeated Gold, and then raced off to find Killian. She had thought things were about to settle down. Glowerhaven had seemed safe, a place for them to repair broken relationships. A place to rest and recover. Now they were leaving again before she felt healed at all.

Maybe her life was never meant to be stationary and quiet. Maybe things would always feel like they were slipping through her fingers, like she was never able to grasp and hold on to what she wanted. The thought sent a small tendril of cold dread down her spine. The emotion causing her magic, now always just beneath the surface, to flare within her once again. It quickened her breaths and made her hands shake.

She took a shaking breath to try to steady herself. Not now, she thought closing her eyes in concentration. The last thing she needed was to send a blast of magic through the house.

She imagined that power within her like a flickering flame or glowing light within her. She took a deep breath to steady herself and work at suppressing that energy, packing it away like everything else. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the twisting in her gut eased and her magic settled.

“You ready, Your Highness?” one of their guards asked surprising her, Clemens, she thought his name was. Another in a sea of new faces she hadn’t gotten to know yet.

“Yes,” she said when she was sure it was true. The word still came out a bit rough. She reached down to finish buttoning her coat, but Clemens didn’t seem to notice her hesitation and he gave a small nod and led the way out to the courtyard where everyone was saddling their horses.

She refused to closely examine why her magic seemed to be acting up lately. She just had to keep it under control a little longer until she could find a real solution. As long as she didn’t push herself she would be fine.

She approached the large bay gelding waiting for her. He eyed her uneasily with his wide brown eyes, and she gave him a reassuring pat on his neck before swinging up into the saddle. She could stay in control, she had to.

It was a six day ride to Misthaven and their route would take them through the mountains at the northern border. They were hoping by taking the harder road they could avoid any unwanted encounters. Emma wasn’t upset, in fact, she had always loved the stories of the mountains, the trolls and mysterious dangers that lingered there.

She glanced over to where Killian was waiting for her. He gave her a warm smile and she nudged her horse forward.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” he said.

“Better at what?” she asked. Fear flooded her at the thought that he might have seen her magic flare up. Even now the feeling was still crackling just under her skin. She wondered if he could read it on her as he had often been able to read her emotions and fears with just a look.

“Riding,” he said with a nod to her horse. She relaxed a little, not even Killian seemed to have noticed she was her losing her grip on her power.

“I learned as a girl,” she told him. “I guess that’s all coming back to me now too.”

The mention of her past and memories made him grow serious.

“This plan feels wrong,” he said softly enough that only she would hear.

They had risked so much to escape, was it a betrayal of everything they had sacrificed to return now? And more than that, now that she had seen some of the world beyond the borders of Misthaven she wasn’t sure wanted to return to its cold streets and desperate people. Was it worth going back to a broken country when there were so many beautiful places they could stay instead? But now she had an obligation to those people, as their princess. Again, the weight of her new life pressed on her.

“Going back doesn’t erase everything that’s happened,” she told him.

“I should hope not,” he said shooting her a smirk. She knew that smirk, that light in his eyes. She’d seen it before when he’d kissed down her skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching at her.

She shook her head biting back a smile. If they hadn’t been on horses she would have found a reason to steal him away to a dark corner. The thought sent a warmth through her, desire curling within her.

Already she missed the serenity of the coast they had left behind. The sunlight sparkling off the crashing waves and the gentle breeze in through the windows of the little cottage they had found to stay in. The sight of Killian early in the morning tangled in the sheets. Lazy afternoons strolling through the village. Cool night air and moonlight on her skin as their bodies moved together matching the rhythm of the waves on the beach under the endless stars. Those days had been free and unhurried. But then the note from her father had arrived urging her to return and she hadn’t hesitated to go back to Glowerhaven. Now she wondered again if that had been a mistake.

The guards at the front of the group urged their horses forward setting a brisk pace. Emma nudged her horse and eased into the rhythm, trusting her muscles to know what to do. The hooves of their party echoed on the cobblestones. A few faces appeared in the windows they passed, watching the procession of guards, lords and ladies in fine fabrics and furs, and lastly groups of refugees as they galloped out of Glowerhaven’s sleepy streets toward the mountains in the distance. Hardly a fearsome conquering army, but still there was a hopeful light in the faces around her, she only prayed it wasn’t a fool’s hope.

It was past midday when they reached the foot of the northern mountains, the road starting to rise and wind up into the ravines and curve around the peaks. Emma was already starting to feel her legs aching, she could only imagine how uncomfortable this saddle would feel in a few days.

They stopped along a trickling spring to give the horses rest and water. Emma looked out at the snow-covered peaks around them and shuddered at the heavy stillness in the air, the ancient feeling of the pines lining the path.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Ruby said coming to stand beside her.

Emma nodded. “I think I came here as a little girl. To the mountains I mean. It all looks almost familiar. I know my family went north sometimes in the summer. I wonder if we ever took this road.”

Ruby gave her a considering look.

“Your parents are right over there,” she said nodding up the path. “You could be with them, asking them about it, sharing it together.”

Emma’s eyes cut over to her father. He was helping her mother adjust her saddle.

“I know, I should,” Emma said slowly but she made no move to leave. Why did the thought fill her with nerves? They were her family, they were supposed to be a safe haven and love her unconditionally. But there were also so many expectations on her. When she was with them she was inescapably the Princess and at times that was suffocating.

Ruby caught her eye with an understanding expression. “There’s plenty of time, Emma,” she said gently.

Emma twisted the ring she wore around her finger, a silver band with a green emerald. It had been her mother’s and it had let her back to her parents after years apart. She wished now for a little of the conviction she had felt when she first put on the ring.

Ruby leaned closer pulling a small silver flask from a pocket in her cloak. “What do you say?” she said with a grin. “It only gets colder the higher up we go.”

“You came prepared,” Emma laughed.

Ruby shrugged uncorked the flask. “Just trying to be a better travel companion this time around,” she said passing the flask.

“Right, because a lack of alcohol was the only thing that went wrong on our last trip,” Emma said dryly taking a sip. She didn’t exactly want to remember the cold snowy nights, lurking blackguards, Gold’s sneering smile when he thought he won.

Ruby nodded. “Admit it though, it might have helped.” She took a large sip her head falling back as she swallowed.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Say what you will about Glowerhaven, but they know how to distill whiskey.”

“Much better than Robin’s ale,” Emma said, the words out of her mouth before she fully thought through what she was saying.

Ruby’s smile faded turning wistful as her gaze fell to her fingers around the flask, her thumb rubbing over the engraving.

“Ruby, I-” Emma started.

“It’s true. That ale was awful,” Ruby said cutting her off. Emma could hear the finality in her tone, it was all she was going to say about Robin.

“We’ll find out what happened to him when we get back,” Emma told her.

Ruby took another drink. “Perhaps,” she said quietly. “Maybe knowing is worse.”

Emma tried to imagine how many times in the past Ruby had told herself that as she watched the people around her disappear under the rule of the Industrialists. For so many years, knowing what really happened to someone probably had been worse.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said not sure what else to say. Apologizing for everything that had happened, for Robin, and for careless comments.

“Don’t apologize,” Ruby said meeting her eyes. “Just promise to be better.”

Emma felt pinned to the spot. How she could make a promise she had no idea how to keep? Maybe being a princess was inescapable from now on, no matter what, no matter who she was with. The realization made her feel strangely cold and alone.

She barely noticed when they started riding again, lost in thought. Sure, she had been taught some of Misthaven’s history, and she had met a few important people who supported her parents. But she still had no real idea what it meant to rule a kingdom. She wondered if there was a way to know if you were ready, if you were even capable of following that path.

They made camp for the night beside a small lake tucked in the low point between three peaks. The dark water in the lake lapped quietly against the stoney shore. Groups of tents were set up around fires that hissed and sent golden orange sparks floating into the star filled sky. Emma could see her breath in the black night air.

Stew was heated up and passed around the camp. Emma waved off a bowl, her stomach still feeling unsettled.

“You have to eat,” Killian said noticing. “It’s too cold here to skip meals.”

She looked over at him and down to the brown stew in his bowl, chucks of potatoes and meat. She must have grimaced because Killian didn’t push it further but he passed her his roll.

She sat beside him and picked at the roll pulling off tiny pieces, worrying them between her fingers and eating small bites. She was mostly doing it to placate him.

“You okay?” he asked her softly.

She nodded and he was right, the bread seemed to be helping. Already she felt a bit better, her appetite coming back a little. “It’s been a long day,” she told him.

He pulled her closer against him his arms circling her. She relaxed, leaning back feeling the warmth of him all around her. The fire was slowly burning out in front of them. Others began to settle into their tents for the night.

“Look up, Emma,” Killian whispered into her ear reaching up to point at the glowing sky above the mountains.

Waving ribbons of bright colors, greens and violet, danced above them. Northern lights. Emma stared, mesmerized. She had never seen it in person before. There was something almost sad about their beauty, otherworldly.

“I read a story when I was younger,” Emma told him. “It was about the northern lights and how they came to be. The story said there was a painter who loved a woman. A woman far above his station, a princess, forbidden. Their love doomed before it could start. She lived high in the towers of a grand palace, much too far from his humble studio to send a message or carry out an affair.”

Emma watched the lights as she spoke thinking of such a girl, isolated, set apart from someone who loved her.

“Well this artist was determined to show her the depth of his affection, and so he ventured out into the wilderness. He headed as far north as he could go. Trudging through deep snow, nearly dying from the cold. At the very top of the world, the most northern point, he found a sorceress. He told her his story and his desire, and she took pity on him. She took a shard of ice from the glacier at the end of the world and touched it to one of the brightest stars in the sky that night. She told him this would be a paintbrush for him unlike any other in the world. This brush would paint the sky, color it more beautifully than any sunset or sunrise. But it could only be used in the dark of night, on nights when the air was clear and cold like black ice. A night like tonight. So he took the brush and he used it each night, hoping she would see, that she would know it was for her. He poured so much love into the lights that the northerners called them the Aurora after the princess he loved.”

Killian held her a little tighter. “It’s a nice story.”

Emma turned to look at him, taking in his bemused expression. “What? You know a better story about the lights?”

He shrugged. “It’s not a story exactly, but I met a trader from the north once. When he spoke about the Northern Kingdom he mentioned the lights. He said they were echoes of the magic done by ancient northern sorcerers. That always made some sense to me. The north is a strange place, time is different here. Nights and days linger long past what they are in other parts of the world. The whole kingdom is a thin place where the past bleeds through in bright veins across the darkness.”

Emma looked away, She didn’t want to hear about the kind of magic that lingered long past when it was cast. She wondered if her magic had left scars on the world too. Would anyone years from now look at what she had done and find it beautiful?

“I think I’ll head in for the night,” she told him abruptly, shifting away. The thought of powerful magic made her stomach clench like a wave of nausea.

She moved to stand but Killian laced his fingers through hers holding her for a moment.

“Emma?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

She pulled away gently. “I just need rest,” she told him. There was something stirring in her, an uneasiness, a feeling like something was wrong.

He nodded and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Aye, goodnight, love.”

She met his gaze and saw the naked love within his eyes. She wondered how she had ever mistaken it for anything else. He seemed to find it so easy to express his affection, but even now she felt herself stumble. The words right on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t get them out. What kind of person couldn’t say ‘I love you,’ especially after they had already said it? Especially when she felt it so completely?

Shame crawled up inside her, adding heat to the already unsteady feeling within her. She needed to be away from everyone, alone, maybe if she could get some sleep she’d feel better. She stood and turned away from him.

~*~

Killian stood at the edge of the lake and watched the colors slowly fade from the sky. The night quieting around him as his thoughts swirled turbulently. Emma was holding something back, withdrawing from him. Her careful mask was starting to crack under the strain of some fear or secret.

“I thought I was the only one who was having trouble sleeping,” a voice said.

He turned to see the Queen wrapped in a thick cloak coming to stand beside him. It was a sight that he still hadn’t gotten used to. How had his path led him here?

“It’s strange isn’t it?” she said at last.

“What’s that, Your Majesty?” he murmured.

“All of this,” she said. “How things have changed.”

Killian glanced over at her pensive expression. She sighed, almost as if she were relieved to finally have someone to talk to about this.

“Going back to Misthaven,” she clarified. “I’ve heard stories for years. The endless reports and the accounts of the horrors happening in my home. For so long it was so unthinkable that it became abstract. I let myself believe it was more fiction than fact, an exaggeration. But now I’m not sure if I’m ready for the full truth. How can I be ready to see something I love so changed? What if I’m a stranger in my home? I’m already a stranger to my daughter. After everything, how can I be ready for that final blow?”

Killian’s eyes traced the outline of the shadowed mountains against the stars as he listened. He let a silence stretch after she finished speaking.

“I was there,” he said at last. “I was there as everything crumbled after the revolt. So few made it out like you did. And when the borders closed the world beyond faded. It’s true, Misthaven will be different from how you remember it, so much of the good died and the ugly was allowed to fester. Those years after the revolt brought out the worst in everyone, myself included. I have seen things I don’t want to remember and I have done things I wish I could forget. I lost hope. Everyone who was left behind in Misthaven has a similar story: Emma, Ruby, and so many others. It leaves a mark, a wound that won’t heal all at once. I tried to run from it, but I was always haunted by the past.”

He saw her turn to look at him but he didn’t meet her gaze. It was his turn to say aloud things he had never told anyone.

“I met Emma the night of the revolt. I tried to save her, but I lost her. The guilt from that night, the things I did in the years after, were a weight that kept me trapped there for a long time. When I met Emma again, when she told me her name, it felt like the first time I’d been able to breathe in a decade. I had forged travel documents and emigration papers for dozens of people, but when we crossed the border, Emma beside me on the train, finally it felt like I had helped someone escape. I was wounded and bleeding but for the first time in a decade I felt like I was healing. That guilt had eased just the smallest amount. Each step away from Misthaven brought me back to life and I swore to myself I would never go back.”

He had meant it too. Finally out from under the shadow of the Industrialists, headed somewhere safer. It had been a shining second chance in a life that had provided so few.

“But here you are,” she said. “Going back.”

He blew out a breath. “Here I am,” he muttered.

Her hand landed on his arm, startling him. Her expression was kind and full of understanding.

“You really love her,” the Queen said.

The corner of his mouth pulled up the smallest amount. “I do. More than I ever meant to.”

“It’s good she has you.”

It wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear. “I’m probably not what you had in mind for Emma’s suitor.”

The Queen gave him a warm smile. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s more to a good match than titles or riches. Remember, I married for love.”

He studied her expression but there was no duplicity or lie in her eyes.

“You understand her. She’s going to need that,” she told him.

He wasn’t sure how take that compliment, but he was saved from finding a response as she adjusted her cloak and took a step away.

“Good night, Killian,” she said. “Get some rest.”

“Good night, Your Majesty.”

He watched as she moved off over to the guard on duty. He heard the murmur of their quiet words before she disappeared into her tent. Killian knew he should do the same and at least attempt to sleep but he stayed frozen in the cold night air for a few minutes longer.

He wondered if this was all futile. If it was a fool’s errand returning to Misthaven and expecting the King and Queen to retake control, expecting anything to change. Love and hope and everything else the royals professed to represent would never create meaningful change in a cruel world. Those things would never be more powerful than the darkness and greed within people.

It seemed to him to be a nearly impossible mission. And struggles for power meant violence and death that came down hardest on those who stood with the losing side. The royals had already lost once, and their supporters had been systematically murdered after the revolt. Was history about to repeat itself? After everything he had risked to get away he was walking willingly, knowingly, back into a trap that might well tear destroy them all.

The night felt suddenly colder and he ached for the feeling of Emma beside him. He needed to see her, feel her. He pushed aside the opening of their tent, the moonlight spilling in. He could see Emma inside wrapped in thick blankets nestled in the corner.

“Killian?” Emma mumbled sleepily.

“Shh,” he breathed kneeling beside her. “I’m here.”

She mumbled something else that he couldn’t make out. Killian felt a small smile tug at his lips. There was nothing he liked more than getting into bed with Emma, even if bed, in this case, meant just a few blankets on the hard ground.

Emma turned over reaching for him as he laid down and burrowed into his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms.

“When we get back,” he whispered rubbing a thumb over her shoulder, “everything’s going to get really complicated.”

She murmured something in response gripping him just a little tighter.

The Queen had been right, everything was changing. This was all a massive gamble. He had learned years ago that you never gambled with something you couldn’t stand to lose, and now as he took stock of everything he knew there were some things he wasn’t willing to give up, no matter the cost.

~*~

Emma woke suddenly, gasping and sweating. The image of northern lights held in the back of her mind, the remnants of a dream, but in her dream it was rivers of fire across the sky.

Killian was still sleeping soundly beside her. For a moment she tried to let the rhythm of his breathing lull her back to sleep but she couldn’t relax. Her magic was stirring within her, a pull dragging her farther and farther from rest.

She sat up and closed her eyes as she concentrated on quieting the energy crackling within her. She tried to imagine forcing that power back into a hidden part of herself.

But this time she couldn’t push it back like she had before. With each moment she felt it strengthening, building like storm clouds. It rippled through her, lightning flickering across her skin, and she watched her palms begin to shine and glow.

“No,” she muttered curling her hands into fists, but the light shone through her clenched fingers. A warmth rose in her and she pushed her palms into the cool ground beside the blankets to try to relieve the burning under her skin.

But it didn’t calm her, instead she pulled away in horror to see that her hands had burned through the floor of the tent leaving two charred handprints. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she felt hot tears in her eyes. It felt as if she was catching fire, roaring to an inferno, unchecked, inescapable. She was going to explode. She glanced over at Killian sleeping, completely unaware of the danger he was in.

She lurched up onto her feet pushing off the blankets afraid she actually might light them aflame if she didn’t get away. She needed to distance herself from Killian and the others if she was going to protect them.

She ducked out of the tent and charged away from the camp, her bare feet pounded against the frozen ground, but she didn’t feel the cold. Her harsh breath tore from her throat leaving it burning. She pushed herself forward weaving deeper into the forest trying to outrun the wave she felt rising over her.

At last shaking and unable to stumble another step forward she fell to her knees, her arms tightly hugging her waist trying desperately to hold herself together.

Please, she pleaded over and over, please let it stop. But it was choking her, choking her like desperate sobs. She pushed her hands into the hard ground and willed the force into the earth. She tried to bury it safely deep in the core of the mountains.

And then for once it obeyed, and she watched as if outside of her body as that terrible force escaped from her at last. She screamed as it tore from her, shredding her like hooks dragging along her flesh. Distantly she surrendered to the small voice that said this might kill her. In that moment she almost welcomed it.

The cold air expanded and groaned with the power she unleashed. She felt the earth shudder under her touch, the miles of stone beneath her struggling away from her. Everything around her bursting apart, knocked back by the shockwave. There was a rumble above her as snow shook from the mountains in an avalanche, knocking over trees.

She collapsed to the ground, struggling to catch her breath. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she realized there was nothing left within her to hold the magic back as it started to build again. All her energy and will to fight it sapped away. That small place she had been shoving her power into for weeks was now destroyed.

She only hoped the others would be safe as her magic shook the mountains, as it ripped her apart and destroyed her.

~*~

Killian woke as the ground shook beneath him. He startled into a sitting position scrambling to get his bearings. Something was attacking them, some force of nature.

He turned to where Emma had been sleeping beside him, but the space was empty.

“Emma?” he said, glancing around the small tent. “Emma!”

He pushed off the blankets moving to grab his boots when he noticed something dark on the tent floor. He paused moving closer.

A muddy handprint on the canvas. No, not muddy, burned. He slowly laid his hand over the impression.

“Emma,” he murmured, knowing it was hers. She was in trouble.

He grabbed his jacket as he ran from the tent. Already others were moving around the camp looking for the source of the tremor. A few of the guards were pointing at a nearby peak where a white cloud rose into the sky, the sign of an avalanche.

“Emma!” He called again into the commotion anxiously searching for her.

He saw the King emerge from his tent and catch sight of Killian and he seemed to understand at once. “Where is she?” he asked.

Killian shook his head. “I don’t know.”

A force blew through the camp pushing him back a step like a strong wind. He recognized it at once. Emma.

Killian gestured urgently for the King. “Follow me.”

They took off running into the trees toward the sound of screeching birds taking flight. They had only made it a few hundred feet when they came to a clearing recently cleared by some kind of brush fire. Smoke and ash still stirring among the debris.

He took a few steps over the felled trees. His boot crunched through one of the fallen boughs, the wood giving way and crumbling to ash. Some of the smaller saplings were still smoldering as far as he could see. Soot and ash kicked up with each of his steps. This destruction was unlike anything he had seen before, as if thousands of trees had been hit by lightning at the same time, or the air had suddenly caught fire and charred everything it touched.

“Emma!” the King called just ahead of him rushing forward.

Killian followed him toward a figure crouched on the ground. She was curled up, seeming so small, her clothes clean and startlingly white against the dirt and ash around her. Her fingers were threaded tightly in her hair pulling at her scalp. She looked like a madwoman in a penny dreadful, swaying and shaking, her nails tearing at herself. His heart nearly broke at the sight.

Her head lifted at their footsteps just enough for her eyes to find her father and slide to him. There was so much fear in her gaze.

A part of him had known it had to have been her magic that did this and still it was impossible.

“Stay back!” she said, the words ground out like gravel. She coughed trying to clear her throat. “I don’t think it’s over,” she whimpered.

The sound of her bald fear and the self-hatred in her tone drove Killian forward. Her father reached out to grab his arm shaking his head.

Killian looked him in the eye before gently shrugging him off.

He walked forward steadily careful not to startle her. He knelt in front of her and gently reached out to touch the spot where her nightgown had fallen to expose her bare shoulder.

“Emma, you’re safe,” he said not flinching as she shivered beneath his touch, her skin burning even in the cold morning air. He suddenly remembered the feel of his mother’s forehead burning with fever.

“I can’t control it,” she whispered. “You need to stay away from me.”

Stay away, Killian, you’ll catch it too. He shook off the memory.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her focusing on green eyes not grey-blue. Emma needed him here in the present.

Emma shook her head. Her eyes begging him to leave. He gripped her tighter holding them both in this moment with one goal, settle her magic.

“I can’t control it,” she said again. And this time it wasn’t a warning, it was a broken confession, a secret she had tried to hide from them all.

He wondered how long this had been building inside of her. How long she had silently battled it alone. How he could have been so blind not to see the cause of her uneasiness the past few days.

“You should have woken me,” he told her gently.

She shook her head. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He leaned down just a fraction and waited until she met his eyes. “I’ve seen the power inside of you,” he told her softly. “I’m not afraid.”

“I am,” she whispered.

He could feel tingling like static on her skin as she trembled beneath his touch. That power that had ignited every tree for half a mile was still raging within her.

“Look at me, Emma,” he murmured. “You can do this.”

“I can’t,” she whispered again and again.

He could feel electricity in the air around him now, making his hair stand on end. She was rapidly losing control again. The King was backing away from them his eyes wide.

“Emma, you can fight it,” he said firmly, but tears were slipping down her cheeks. He knew she was giving up.

“Go,” she pleaded.

He shook his head, holding her gaze and reached up to cup her cheek in his hand. Her eyes begged him to abandon her, but he was staying with her, together, to whatever end.

He felt the exact moment her power broke free. The force knocked him back tearing her from his grasp. He hit the ground hard enough to push all the air from his lungs, his head hitting with enough force to make the world fade to black.

When he blinked his eyes open Emma beside him again her hands fluttering over him.

“Are you alright?” he asked her a little disoriented, his vision just a little too bright.

She nodded. She seemed calmer now, that frenetic energy of her magic settled, sated. The air around them felt still.

“Is it over?” he asked her.

She nodded again not meeting his eyes. “I think so.”

“Okay,” he said with more confidence than he felt. He took a quick assessment of his limbs and senses, everything seemed to be intact if shaken. He gave her a reassuring smile before cautiously getting to his feet. His legs felt a bit like rubber beneath him but kept him upright. He reached out to pull her up beside him. In truth she was probably steadying him as much as he was helping her.

“David? Emma?” The Queen called entering the clearing and staring at the snapped and burnt trees. “What happened?”

Emma dropped her gaze, staring at the ground as if afraid to see the judgement or fear in her mother’s eyes.

“Magic,” Killian answered wrapping his jacket around Emma. She gave him a tentative smile in thanks.

“How?” the Queen asked. “Were there others? Trolls?” Her eyes darted around looking for other threats.

Emma’s expression darkened, as if embarrassed she had caused an incident akin to a pack of trolls. In all honesty, Killian would have been only impressed and proud if he weren’t so worried about her.

“We need to get back to reassure the others,” the King said. “Emma?”

She nodded. “I’m okay,” she said.

Killian walked beside her helping her over the burning logs mindful of her bare feet.

The guards scurried about them when they returned. Killian saw their shocked faces and he heard the whispers that echoed behind them: sorceress, powerful, dangerous. He pulled Emma along a little quicker.

Killian shouldered open the door to their tent, finally sheltering them from the prying gazes of the camp. She sank onto the blankets her hands covering her face.

He watched her for a moment trying to read if she wanted to be alone, but she gave no indication she even knew he was there.

Slowly he sat beside her, his hand coming to rest on her knee.

She looked up at him, fresh tears in her eyes, her lip trembling. She was again that girl he had met thirteen years ago, the night of the revolt, exhausted and terrified by the magic she had unleashed.

He gathered her hands in his. “It wasn’t your fault,” he told her.

She looked away, her finger tracing over his mechanical hand. Her skin pale against the silver metal. He wondered if she was remembering the revolt too.

“Your hand is cold,” she murmured catching him off guard.

He frowned. “When the air is cold-”

She shook her head slightly, her thumb rubbing over the gears and plates. “The magic, it makes it feel like I’m burning, as if I’m melting from the inside out.” She gripped his fingers tighter. “When I hold your hand, I feel the cold, and it feels real. When I hold onto you I feel grounded. I don’t feel like I’ll lose myself.”

She raised his hand to her lips before holding it to her heart. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way it never bothered her. Something he kept hidden from most people and somehow she accepted all of him. Somehow she knew it was exactly what he needed.

He leaned forward his other hand on her neck and kissed her temple, determined to be what she needed too. She was watching him with an unreadable expression. He kissed the tears from her cheeks.

“Better?” he asked her softly.

“It’s like a buzzing feeling now, keeping me on edge.”

“Where?”

She lifted her free hand to the side of her neck, just beside the pulse point. He moved closer and she bent slightly to give him better access. He hesitated just before his lips touched her skin, the smell of morning dew and ash on her skin. She shivered at his breath and he pressed a kiss to the spot.

“Here,” she breathed pointing at the hollow above her collar bone.

When he leaned forward she moved, falling back onto the blankets and pulling him with her by their still interlocked hands. He braced himself over her, meeting her eyes for a second before bending down his teeth grazing her, nipping at the bone beneath the smooth skin.

“Yes,” she gasped. “That helps.”

He pulled back his eyes moving over her face. Her eyes were closed but she was breathing quickly, her heart pounding against him. He couldn’t comprehend the power that lived within her but he knew the desperation that came with feeling broken. The need to feel controlled, contained, to be reminded of your physical body when your mind felt lost.

He pushed their interlaced hands pushed up over her head holding her in place as he let more of his weight trap her beneath him.

He pulled back his mechanical hand letting it run slowly down her wrists, down the length of her arm. She shifted beneath him her head falling back, her eyes closing on a breathy exhale.

He leaned forward following his hand first with a gentle bite on her wrist, at the thin skin above her veins, then a gentle press of his lips. He moved to her elbow, her bicep, her shoulder. Each spot getting the same treatment, cold metal, the sharp sting of teeth, and the a soft kiss. Warring sensations, meant to spark her nerves. To help her relearn the borders of herself. The edge of pain and pleasure.

“Killian,” she pleaded as he unbuttoned her night gown. He silenced her with a cold finger to her lips. Her eyes burned into his with expectation. He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and kissed her deeply.

He leaned down pressing her deeper into the blankets, pining her in place.

His knuckles traced down from the hollow of her throat to her navel. There were so many paths he meant to trace upon her until she felt whole again.

Killian woke some time later, the sun starting to climb higher in the sky. He glanced over at Emma sleeping soundly beside him, at peace for the first time since they left the coast.

He left her to rest and went to check on the rest of the camp. He could only imagine the rumors that must be running wild about what Emma had done.

The Queen was standing at the lake’s edge across the camp. She looked up as he made his way to her.

Her eyes moved from him to the tent where Emma was sleeping. “How is she?”

Killian glanced around for anyone who might overhear them. “She’s scared,” he said truthfully. “It rattled her.”

There was a pause before the Queen spoke. “Has her magic done anything like that before?”

“There were moments it seemed to burst from her almost subconsciously. It happened when she needed to protect people she cared about, but it was never unprovoked like this.”

He worried again what it could mean that her magic was growing and becoming more unpredictable.

“She had magic when she was a little girl,” the Queen said, her tone soft with memory. “She would make stars. That’s what we called it, ‘make stars’. These little lights that would dance and play around her. She’d giggle and they would all twinkle. It was beautiful.”

Killian smiled imagining it.

“I hate that it’s something harmful to her now,” she said and his smile faded. “She’s been through so much.”

“This is a delicate situation,” she continued quietly, glancing at the rest of the camp. “We can’t afford to lose travel time, but I don’t want to push Emma.”

The longer they waited the harder it would be to take control in Misthaven. The royal family couldn’t afford to show any weakness and Emma spontaneously flattening a mountainside was not exactly a show of control.

“We aren’t even halfway threre,” he said looking west at the numerous peaks between them and Misthaven.

“There is a way,” she said slowly, he got the sense she hadn’t suggested this to anyone else yet. “The old mining pass. It cuts through the south mountains.”

Killian frowned. “That’s controlled by the Industrialists.”

“The Industrialists are gone,” she reminded him.

“You can’t be sure of that. They have left the Capital but they may have lingered in places like the mining camps.”

“We don’t have many options.”

Something in her tone begged him for guidance, and he wasn’t sure when she had decided that he was someone she could confide in or trust in his council. She had groups of advisors who had served her for years.

“Emma nearly brought down a mountain this morning, are you sure want to be trapped within one if it happens again?”

Her expression darkened.

“Our only chance is to get back before it happens again. I believe her magic is tethered in Misthaven, it is where the power of my family has resided for centuries.”

Killian was no expert on magic but this felt more like a wish than a guarantee.

“We leave as soon as Emma is ready,” she said and walked away.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. This was what he had feared more than anything: losing his choices, getting backed into a corner by Kings and Queens pulling rank. Now instead knowingly walking into a bad situation he was being dragged into a worse one.

He ducked back into the tent. Emma was awake and slowly packing her things. She seemed distant.

“We’re not leaving until you’re ready,” he said. “You can rest longer-”

“I’m fine,” she said.

It was a lie. He didn’t call her on it.

There was determination in her movements. He knew she didn’t want to be a burden. While she gathered her things he took care of everything else and packing their tent. She knelt on the ground at the water’s edge and filled her canteen.

The other tents had been packed away. Horses saddled and readied.

“Come on,” he said when he couldn’t stall any longer. “Ride with me, just for a bit.”

Emma frowned. “You don’t need to baby me.”

He reached out a hand and pulled her up beside him. “Humor me, Emma,” he said with enough insistence that she didn’t argue.

She settled into the saddle just in front of him, pressed up against him. Close enough he could feel her trembling slightly. She was quiet, putting on a good show for everyone around them, but he knew she was still unsettled by what happened that morning.

They took a road winding south through the mountains. He kept a close eye on the others around them, the looks they gave him and Emma. Wary, unsure, but still awed. They all seemed to be waiting to see how everyone else was reacting before they passed final judgement. He made sure it was clear his loyalty to her was unshaken.

By afternoon the Iron Mountain rose up before them mist hanging around it. It stood out from the other mountains because of the metalwork that climbed the side of the mountain like a scar. All part of the mining operation that had supplied Misthaven, but it was the Industrialists who had taken full advantage of the mountain’s resources.

This was a mistake.

“It’s imposing, isn’t it?” Emma said softly.

He nudged his horse to a trot, moving up the column to where Ruby and the King and Queen were at the front. They stopped at the foot of the mountain beside wide tracks of the funicular rail cars. Gears and pulleys taller than he was sat silent in the great machine’s workings.

“We get this running and we can move people up to the tunnel pass,” the King said nodding to a few of the guards and others who began moving toward the controls.

Killian helped Emma down from the saddle.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked her parents. “We don’t know the last time this was used. It was built by the Industrialists.”

“Well, at least we know it’s well-built then,” one of the men scoffed.

Emma shivered beside him.

Killian looked up the side of the mountain to where the tracks disappeared into the mist. Another dead end. They were wasting time. He glanced at Emma who was looking at her hands.

The man extended a hand indicating the crank, turbine, and a collection of gauges and gears. “Here. The whole thing was built to run on coal steam. We restart the fire and the engine starts again.”

“How do you know that?” a guard asked him.

“I used to be mechanic,” he told them, before seeing their looks of distrust. “We had grain elevators and clocks before the Industrialists. They didn’t invent everything.

“This gear will hoist the car along the track and reset the counterweight. It will still take several minutes to reach the top of the track and we will need multiple trips to get everyone through.”

“A coal fire will take hours to get hot enough,” Ruby pointed out.

“I think I can do it,” Emma said slowly. All eyes turned to her. “The amulet, it used my magic to power their inventions. I can use magic to light the coal.”

“No, Emma,” Ruby said stepping between her and the car. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ve come this far, we can’t just turn around.”

“Emma,” Killian said pulling her aside. “You lost control only this morning. We don’t know how your magic works, or how to use it properly. What if it requires more power than you have to give?”

“We have to try,” she said.

He shook his head. “The whole point of this plan was to avoid you using magic again.”

“The whole point,” she said firmly, “is to get back to Misthaven. And this is the most direct road.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue. Headstrong as always, never cautious with her own safety.

Emma walked over to where the others stood around the wheel house. Then she reached out and laid her hands against the machine, her eyes closing in concentration.

For a moment nothing happened. Emma’s nails blanched white as she pressed harder against the steel. He took a step forward, about to stop her, stop all of this, but then the coal in the burner burst into flame, burning red hot all the way through. The machine let out a groan, an ancient dragon stirring to life.

Emma’s brows furrowed with effort. The needles on the gauges above her hands began to flutter, pressure building in the mechanism. Gears ground into motion small gears turning larger gears until at last the large pulleys and wheels for the cable car. Slowly the car lowered into place in front of them with shuddering thud.

“Holy shit,” the mechanic breathed. Emma’s eyes opened and she turned to look at him, her hands dropping from the machine.

The others looked a mix of impressed, and intrigued. A few smiles broke among the crowd.

“It will work now,” Emma told them. She looked tired, but confident.

“We’ll go with the first group,” the Queen said standing beside the King.

It was a show of solidarity and belief in Emma. Something he hadn’t seen from them often, something he knew Emma needed after this morning.

“I’ll stay here at the controls in case something goes wrong,” Emma said. “I’ll go up last.”

Ruby lowered her pack to the ground meaning to stay back.

“Come on,” the King said. “Let’s get the first group loaded. We get everyone up to the tunnels then we can bring gear and horses.”

They only filled the car half full for the first trip. The mechanic heaved a lever on the panel to the right and the car groaned into motion, rising slowly above the crowd. The gears clacking and the car grinding along the rails.

It wasn’t long before the car was lost in the mist. Everyone on the ground waited watching the wheels continue turning in the wheelhouse. Then it ground to a stop, and then after a few minutes it started again turning in the opposite direction. Returning down the slope.

There were many more enthusiastic volunteers for the second and third carloads. When there were only a few people left they sent up supplies and horses.

“No more stalling then, huh?” Ruby smirked when it was only the three of them and the mechanic left at the base.

The car settled back at the base. Emma brushed a hand down the control panel before turning and stepping into the car. Killian pulled the gated door shut. The car began to rise at once.

“Should have gone up before the horses,” the mechanic groaned his nose wrinkling at the lingering scent.

Emma gripped the shaking grated walls looking out as they rose among the mountains. Killian joined her, looking at the road they had taken stretch away from them. He looked out to the horizon imagining he could make out Glowerhaven and the sea that lay beyond.

Too soon the view was obscured by heavy mist. Killian turned back to the others inside the car. Ruby was leaning in the far corner picking at her nails. He knew she hated heights, though she’d never admit it.

At the top of the rails the car eased to a stop. He pulled open the door to reveal the wide tunnel beyond. It stretched into darkness like looking down the throat of a great beast waiting to swallow them whole.

The others were already starting down the tunnel, torches reflecting off the rough stone walls. The whole thing had an eerie feel, he was already anxious to be through to the other side.

Emma and Ruby walked with him at the rear of the group making sure no one fell behind. They walked for a few hours before making camp in the tunnel. He wasn’t sure he’d get any sleep here.

~*~

Emma was tired, bone deep tired, her muscles aching. But her mind raced and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Several fires burned in the small tunnel, sending flickering shadows over the groups of people resting and sleeping. Nearby a horse nickered, the faintest breeze touched her skin, she more sensed more than felt the change in the air.

Goosebumps rose on her arms, the hair standing on end, prickling at the back of her neck. She glanced around but no one else seemed alarmed.

Another horse stamped its foot and Emma sat up and turned toward the noise. Her eyes straining to look into the darkness back the way they had come.

“What is it?” Ruby asked her.

“Shhh.” She held up a hand. She couldn’t see anything beyond the circle of firelight, but she had the sense something was watching her.

Another small breeze brushed by her and this time she heard it. A soft scratching sound, like fingernails drumming on a surface. Or something skittering in the dark. Something was in the tunnel and getting closer.

She jumped up and grabbed the pistol from her pack raising it to point down the tunnel.

“What is that noise?” Ruby said softly grabbing her own weapon.

Killian reached into the fire with his metal hand and grabbed one of the small logs as a makeshift torch.

“Get the others up and moving,” he said to Ruby.

She turned and started shaking awake everyone around the other fires. Emma turned to Killian as he took a step past her, his torch lighting the dark tunnel, throwing sharp shadows on the walls. She matched his stride, staying just behind him her pistol raised.

The noise was louder now, a grinding clicking. Killian raised the torch higher trying to cast the light just a little further. Emma’s eyes followed the light up onto the ceiling of the tunnel and she gasped as the jagged surface shifted, moving with dozens of mechanical legs clicking above them.

“Above you!” Emma tried to warn Killian as something separated itself from the jumble, some kind of mechanical spider. It fell, its many legs reaching for Killian knocking him over. He hit the ground with a grunt, the torch rolling from his hand, and the spider righted itself its metal legs scrambling toward him.

Emma aimed and fired just as it reached Killian. The shot burying right into the center of its body. It spluttered, its circuits sparking. Killian kicked out knocking it back and it crumpled.

Their eyes met for a split second before three more of the spiders dropped from above them. Emma shot one as it fell, metal and sparks bursting apart before it hit the floor, like some horrible firework display. The other two rounded on Killian anr she couldn’t get a clear shot.

Killian picked up the torch again and swung hard connecting with the spider closest to him and slamming it into the tunnel wall. Emma kicked the other one and shot two bullets into it, her ears ringing from the echo off the hard rock around her.

“- some kind of security system,” Killian was saying but she wasn’t sure she was hearing the words right over the buzzing from her ears.

Then he was there grabbing her elbow and dragging her back. “-out of here, Emma,” he said fiercely.

She looked at him and saw more of those things coming toward them over his shoulder. She pointed the gun but he pushed her back from them.

“Run!” he yelled and that she heard perfectly.

She tried to turn and run but her boot caught on one of the legs of a spider they had destroyed and she stumbled. She hit the ground hard skinning her knee, the wound stinging and burning. Blood trickled down her leg. She could hear commotion down the tunnel where the others were, yells and running steps. If any of those things had gotten by them they might be attacking the others right now. She tightened her grip on her pistol and struggled to her feet.

Then Killian was there carrying the torch, his sword in hid other hand making a wide arch. He slashed at the spider closest to her the sword ringing out as it sliced at its legs. He was fire and steel as he whirled sending it flying back.

She fired her pistol hitting another of them, the next shot going wide and ricocheting off the wall. She aimed again but the gun clicked in her hand. She swore.

“Magic, Emma,” Killian called between his gritted teeth plunging the sword into the spider she had missed.

She looked down at her hands, but there was no glow from her palms, the fire quiet in her veins. Before when she had needed magic it had just come to her like a rush of adrenaline, powerful and instinctual. Now, after days of constantly pushing back that force, it seemed gone. Maybe her outburst in the woods had truly drained her.

“Now Emma!” he yelled and she could see he was losing ground to those things.

She closed her eyes grappling inside herself for that power, begging for it to come. At last she felt a buzz in her fingertips, a small flame in the nothingness. She concentrated on that balling her hands into fists and squeezing them hard trying to strengthen the building force. To physically press it from her fingers to her palms, to let it flow through her.

There was a sound of something hitting flesh and Killian hissed. She knew those things were going to overpower him if she didn’t act. She tried to master her fear, thinking of him and her need to protect him, protect herself and the others. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she felt that telltale sensation of heat and electricity pounding through her.

She opened her eyes seeing blue light sparking off her hands. She put all her energy into it and she threw out her hands willing that power from her. Light and energy burst from her careening down the tunnel in bolts and flashes like lightning.

Each time it hit one of the spiders they jolted and fell twitching to the ground. She watched until the magic faded out far down the tunnel. She sank to her knees shivering as a chill ran through her. It was like an icy sea rising up around her and she shuddered as it claimed her.

~*~

Killian stared as the ball of light magic flared down the tunnel destroying the machines coming after them. It faded into the distance like a shooting star falling over the horizon. Emma collapsed beside him.

He hurried to her side. She blinked up at him, and he left out a breath in relief, for a moment he thought she might pass out like she had on the train, or worse.

“I’m okay,” she muttered. How many times had she said that today? He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness.

He wrapped his arms around Emma and pulled her up. “Can you walk?” he asked her.

She nodded but she didn’t seem able to stand on her own. He pulled her trembling arm across his shoulder and helped her limp down the tunnel. There was no stirring of those mechanical monsters but still he kept a tight grip on his sword.

“What the hell were those things?” she said roughly, her voice weak like she had been screaming.

“Industrialist inventions. Always a joy to discover,” he huffed.

Again genius seemed to come at the cost of madness. Who released killing machines into a mine?

“I think I woke up more than I meant to when i started that fire at the cable car,” Emma said quietly.

He frowned at her words, remembering what she had said about the amulet. Gold had used her magic to make his machines more powerful, maybe using her magic would have ramifications they didn’t yet understand.

He could feel the warmth of her through his heavy jacket. She had said her magic was a fire within her. Blazing around her, leaving a marked path in her wake, written like light across the sky, everywhere she went her power changing everything it touched. She had saved his life, and opened his cold heart. People were drawn to her, inspired by her, right now they marched back to her homeland with her, for her, because she had already done the impossible, nearly moved mountains, and toppled empires.

She worried she had woken more by lighting a fire, but she was the fire and many more would join her cause, drawn to her side, believing in her power. Embers catching fire.

As they moved toward the distant light of dawn at the end of the tunnel he felt as if he could suddenly see the path of her life clear as day, and he only hoped his never strayed.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #cs crew #at the beginning #steampunk anastasia au #sequel #my writing

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neargaztambide · 4 years

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Stan and Ford Pines: A Melancholic Story (Chapter 2)

Prologue, Chapter One

Words: 3.549 approximately:

2: Happy Birthday!

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It is a beautiful day. Outside the birds sang. The sun illuminated everything it touched. It was a perfect day, with a nice breeze, an ideal climate. Little by little, one of the brothers opened his eyes, finally being able to enjoy the benefits of the morning.

Stanford pulls the covers aside as he feels the warmth of the sun settle on his eyes. Stan is still sleeping. The boy gets up and looks at the beautiful clear blue sky, with hardly any clouds in the afterlife, with the people of the district strolling, going to work or taking advantage of the first hours to go shopping. “Wow. Stanley, wake up: you should see ...” He stopped talking. Ford erased his smile. Out of the corner of his eye he began to perceive that in microseconds the sky turned gray, dark clouds making shadows in his room. Laughter, teasing approached his head. Stanley was white as a sheet, his chest full of blood. His corpse was completely violated, as if a true beast had devoured him without contemplation. He was going to scream: Ford was going to scream, he already had it about to do it...

“... Ford, c'mon, wake up. Guess what day is today.” Stanford quickly opened his eyes. He felt cold for a few moments, like he was still in that nightmare. Stanley was alive. It was just a bad dream. "Wake up, Sixer, today’s our birthday!" Saying this, Stan punches his brother in the face with a pillow. Without opening his eyes, Ford searches for his glasses on the nightstand. Upon finding them, they are quickly put on. “You know what your gift is, don't you?” Stan asks in a mischievous tone. Ford leans against the head of the bed. He didn't ask his brother for anything; would it be a joke or something? He remembers absolutely nothing, not even the slightest hint that he wanted something on specific.

Stanley sits on the edge of the bed, putting his hand on Stanford's hair and ruffling it to finish waking up him. Ford is finally ready to listen to Stan, who looked certainly happy. He was looking expectantly at Stanford's possible reaction. He bent down and rummaged under the bed, placing a red paper-wrapped gift in Stanford's hands. –Yup, there is no reason to thank me. Enjoy it. - Ford smiled. The mere consideration made the gift something perfect. He didn't know what to say. He was stunned. -Hey! What are you waiting for?: open it! - Stan shakes Ford's shoulder a little to cheer him up. Ford breaks the paper with force, leaving the paper that was taking out stacked. The result was to bare a case, which when opened revealed a necklace that Stanford took. It was an owl, of tyto breed. He spread his wings like he was going to take flight. It was highly detailed on the head up part. The body disintegrated into a metal vine that firmly held a small capsule of non-translucent plastic. He even had his little legs made down to the last detail. “A few months ago I saw that you were really interested in this when we were passin' by Crab Avenue.” And I thought it would be a good gift.” Stan approaches the curtain to close it.

Suddenly, the owl's body began to flash a soft green light. Shining and accompanying the little darkness that was thanks to the curtain. It was peaceful and calming to see the light illuminate the room. It was as if something was accompanying them. It was weird, but it's as if someone was watching them closely. They couldn't feel it, but a strange presence was with them, watching. The light in seconds went out. “Wait, are you kidding me?” The effect of the necklace stopped working. Little by little it flickered and the light faded. Stan grabbed Ford's necklace, and tapped it a few times to try to activate it again. It didn't work. “Oh, hell. Sorry, Pointdexter: it's just a trinket.” Ford didn't care. Anyway, he liked the gift. He smiled and said: “It doesn't matter, Stanley. I will repair it. I'll find out how. Oh, right- Stanford got up and went behind the nightstand. He gave Stan his gift. The package was slightly larger than Stan's (it was decorated with blue paper). Stan ripped the paper, leaving a photo frame on his legs. It was flipped. "Um… thanks?" The little Ford did was sneak roll his eyes while smiling. He couldn't believe that his brother was unintuitive. Stan finally turned the frame over, only to stop smiling at the photo.

It was Filbrick. He had two lumps in his arms (it looked like his brother and he when they were babies), smiling. Smiling like never before. Smiling at the camera. The blue frame was full of beautiful decorations. For example, some colored crystals stuck in some corners. In another was a pretty seashell. “Stan... do you like it?” Ford asked with a certain tone of regret when he noticed that Stan only stared at the frame without an apparent smile. But, Stan only lunged at him to give him a big hug. “I-it's the best gift you could have ever given me ...” Ford sighed inwardly, and welcomed the hug. “-I'm glad you liked.” Stanford thought. The two separated. “Are you crying?” Stanford asks quickly, to which Stanley raised a fist to his eyes and began to wipe away: “No: asbestos entered my eyes.”

The brothers left their room feeling hungry and after thanking each other. They were in the living room: nice and comfortable. It is years old, with soft yellow wallpaper. Her television was on top of a library (filled with various things: horror books, science fiction in the right dose, comics painstakingly collected by Stanley, and music. Lots of music). In the kitchen was Caryn, who was busy cooking something. They both go to the dining room, and wait for their mother. She is wearing a football shirt, with the number 04 on the back. In addition to pants of different scales of blue. “Well, who's having a birthday today?” Her mother finally looks up to say good morning. Stan thinks: his mother has slightly reddish eyes. Maybe she fell asleep with tears still on her face. Why haven't she told them how she was feeling, or at least to someone else? She must have been the most emotionally charged to deal with. He felt very sorry for his mother. Is she trying to pretend that she is supporting herself for them?

“So, what’s the breakfast?�� Asked Stan when it comes out of his musings when they were starting to bother. Her mother tells her that they are going to eat waffles (which they ended quite quickly). Stanford was engrossed in seeing his new possession. “Ford, where did you get that necklace?” Asked Caryn when noticing his son. He said that it was Stanley’s gift. Their mother looked at her children: they always take care of each other, no matter what. It is a relationship of real mutual affection. Stan's light went on and he went back to his room. “–Where is that dwarf going? -” Caryn wondered mentally when the boy left and returned a few minutes later. He gave her Ford's gift. His mother had almost the same reaction as Stan when opening the gift: she was left for a few moments with absolutely nothing to say, and then moved. “Ma...” Stan said suddenly, who looked at his mother, who was already starting to have watery eyes. “Look, boys: I'm going to go get some things for the cake” Caryn says to her children to explain what they could do. “. And so that you don't get bored when you're locked up, why don't you go to the beach? Let's see if you get some color, pair of vampires.” Caryn makes a graceful movement to grab the nose of Ford, who smiles at the little joke. “Do it, or I’ll make you carry all the bags.” After a while, the twins walked out the front door. Stanford stood for a few seconds at the door before following Stan. He turned to see his mother. “Ma...” “What's the matter, honey?” “Are you okay?” Caryn was silent for a few seconds. Her smiling didn’t change. Caryn replied, after shaking her head almost imperceptibly to react: “Of course I am, Mousy. See both sides before crossing the streets, fine?” With this, Ford gives him a bigger smile, and finally, he leaves.

Caryn is undaunted. Sharpen her ear to know if her children finally left home. She finally hears the twins when they close the door. Caryn erases her smile, ceasing finally. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to pretend, but she should. Caryn did not want to worry his children. She ... she honestly tried to be good, to try to be fine for them. But acting like a happy mother was tearing her apart. I really needed to tell them that she ... Caryn sighed. She took a deep breath before getting up. She needed an escape. Caryn went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of wine. A cup, and then she returned to the table. Caryn poured herself a good squirt, and took a sip. For a few moments, she saw her husband's photo. She just couldn't stop thinking about Fil. It was catching her. She wanted to continue: she couldn't stand it anymore because it was too painful for her to remember the facts. But it was constant comings and goings that her own memory used to torment her with the fact: “-Filbrick is dead, and now you are alone.-” With certain bitterness, the widow remembers how her story with her Fil, with her man began. And it was, at Glass Shard beach.

It seemed like a déjà vu: one of the most important places for Caryn was the beach. From that day on, that place took on a kind of magical importance after she saw him, and that same interest for the beach was conveyed to her children in the same way. Caryn took a drink to accompany herself to confront her memories a little better. It was exactly the day she left work. Caryn resigned from The Drunk Clam. Caryn barely received less than acceptable pay for her services -other than that the bar was a dump that preached a bad death.- She walked near the edge, barefoot. She could feel the salty waters of his feet. Caryn was stunned, thinking of one thing: “-now what?-” She walked and walked, until she collided. She hadn't realized it. Caryn immediately demanded: “Hey, don't you see where…” Caryn couldn't finish her complaint when she saw Filbrick: he was there, looking at her. May a lot of people don’t believe that love at first sight exists: it seems to them an invention worthy of tales like Cinderella , Snow White , or any story that wasn’t written by Carlo Collodi. Although, Caryn didn’t care at all that millions thought about the subject: she believed from that moment that this type of affectionateness existed.

After that day, Caryn was only dreamed of by that man: he looked perfect. His body, his broad shoulders, his well-tanned features , all of him incredible for Caryn's taste. For a week, with what can be described as a kind of not-so-healthy obsession, she searched as best she could for the number of that stranger, or at least something that could get her to see him again. She was able to hear from him little by little: he was working in a construction as just another little helper. Caryn more or less knew where to locate him, and when she saw him, Caryn asked if he could make a date with her. To his surprise, Filbrick accepted. They confirmed the day and hour, and separated at the crossroads. When she was alone, the woman jumped for joy: she did it, dammit: she did it. It should be clarified that Filbrick only accepted for one reason; which was that for one day he wanted to escape his tedious routine. He admitted that Caryn was pretty, although the date could help clear his mind. But hey: that, or having to carry concrete bags to the mixer with hot sun stalking. The expected date night came, and they both went to a karaoke bar. Before that, they went to dinner. Caryn was damn nervous: it was her first time on a date since high school, and she didn't want to screw up. Filbrick concealed his boredom as best he could. Between accepting the date, or having an arduous workday, he preferred the latter.

By the time they reached to the bar, the two of them went to a room so they could be alone (Fil, despite being on the point of falling asleep from the bluntness, he had enough chivalry to invite drinks from his own pocket ). Caryn approached the screen. Filbrick looked completely neutral, but to himself he said: “-I'm sure this girl is one of those people who think they sing amazing, but they are a complete junk.-“ “Have any preference?" Caryn asked , and turned around. Filbrick replied quickly: “Whatevah you want.” Caryn felt overwhelmed: she felt Fil's discontent. She quickly searched for a song she might know. And she did find it: Maybe , by Janis Joplin. The woman's eyes flashed upon finding her. She selected it, and began to listen to the beginning of the song.

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It all started with that hippie rhythm, the typical rhythm of the late sixties. Trumpets were quickly introduced after strumming a guitar. There, the song became much faster. Filbrick prepares for disaster, seeing Caryn imitate Janis in her smooth, wave-like movements. But, inevitably, Caryn opened her mouth to barf the words: “Maybe ... Oh, if I could pray, and I try, dear, you might come back home, home to me.” Filbrick opened his eyes. His surprise was huge when he saw Caryn sing, but not regular , but incredible. Her voice wouldn’t be the most appropriate for the blues genre, but she was setting the nail in every way: Caryn was feeling it, understanding what each word meant, and taught it with her voice and movements. “Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, dear, I guess I might have done something wrong, Honey, I'd be glad to admit it! Ooh, come on home to me! Honey, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe yeah!” For God’s sake: she seemed wild, rude, and strong, she had an almost unreal authenticity. She contorted with almost every part of his body: neither arms nor feet were indifferent to the emotion . She looked like a reincarnation of Pearl. Caryn just let go. It looked like a lioness.

Caryn flew to the following verse: “Please, please, please, please, oh won't you reconsider, babe, now come on, I said come back, won't you come back to me!” And there, in the final part of the penultimate strophe, the presence of the Texan girl known as Janis Joplin in Caryn Pines was felt for a few seconds: that same essence, the same characterization was in her for a while. “Maybe, dear, oh maybe, maybe, maybe, lemme help you: show me how. Honey maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe, yeah! Ooh!” The song decreased. It went out, but the spark was still felt in the twist movements of the feet as it turned slowly off. Caryn just felt weightless at the time. She had done the best she could. Caryn stopped playing the dead character, to turn to see her date. Which was applauding her. They were not ironic applause: they were authentic. They both left after a while, and walked next to him. “Wow: you have talent.” Caryn muttered a somewhat shameless "thanks". Filbrick was looking across the street . "So… did you have fun?" Caryn asked. Well, it was the moment of truth. “Well, yeah, of course. It was fun… it wasn’t” Caryn stopped. She thoughts he had ruined it. “: I must admit that I was ... bored.” Caryn's soul fell to her feet, and she began to apologize. Fil interrupted her.

“It wasn’t fair to you: I noticed that you tried your best. I'm sorry that I didn't recognize that. ” Caryn was speechless. So: was it a disaster or not? Caryn was confused as she needed time to swallow those words. Now that Filbrick think about it, he partially enjoyed the date. “But... how do you know how to sing so swell?” Filbrick asks. Maybe he was trying to remedy his pedantic attitude. Caryn replied that she had taken singing lessons as a child, and the talent was completely natural to her. Filbrick listened. Throughout the date, he had not paid as much attention to his companion until that moment. "And ... do you see hope on this?" Asked Filbrick; without wanting interrupting Caryn. And like a lightning, Filbrick was embarrassed by that question. Caryn, however, didn't mind at all. That phrase had a very special meaning, a special intonation. The reason for that question was to introduce them to a moment full of palpitations and excited hormones. “W-what do you mean?” The woman asks stupidly, since her feelings make her completely drunk with confusion. "I mean" Filbrick had started to blush. His ears flushed with his cheeks. “, you are ... pretty, you have talent, and...” Between each word Fil was blushing at every step, and Caryn laughed at the nerves, the emotion ... the feeling of ridiculousness, discomfort -and to be frank- the kitsch of silence that was presented. This is love, this is how it works: it is as unpredictable as the victory of a paraplegic over a professional runner in the hundred-meter-flat . “Well, this is getting awkward...” Caryn joked poorly. Filbrick agreed with her on that point, shaking his head quickly. “Yes it is.” “You asked if this was going to ... work. Why are you sure about it?” Caryn muttered, nervous. Her heart was going to be catapulted out of her chest in a daze. She tried to chill, without success, as Filbrick tried the same. He thought for a few seconds. If it would work, effectively? They barely even had a date, but they could both have some chemistry together. “We… could make it work it out.” He dropped it like a bomb: that melted the woman's heart, and her eyes lit up. There was a simple moment, when they just they drowned in each other's eyes. Some showed true love. Others showed a certain spark that gradually became a powerful flame. It was a silent moment of tension, not of discomfort. The silent between them were so fragile, that it could be cut it by a knife. Filbrick see her. Filled with something.

And it was Filbrick who took the first step. The date perfectly could have been a complete fiasco. It could all have been a terrible mistake, where Caryn could have been smashed. By pure luck he rectified. Caryn's voice and Filbrick's reflection caused them to be given an opportunity. There could have been an awkward silence in the car because of the failed date: so much that it would have been worthy of comedy for misfortune. But, Filbrick made the first step with Caryn. How?: he kissed her. It was a delicate, nervous, fragile kiss. But Caryn liked it: that kiss was full of poesy, full of no enough words to describe love, the great passion. And Filbrick, ridiculously started to blush one more time. His kiss was an action driven by desire, by the pure feeling of a blossoming romance. But, who cared about it?: they were happy. Filbrick noticed it: he loves Caryn as a singer loves the music. She felt like the most pleasant woman in the world: she didn't seem to care anymore. The least possible love, the least realistic love was being fulfilled. With those last memories, recalling the sweet memories, Caryn got up, not without taking another sip of a sweet wine. She was shedding tears. She stroked her husband's face in the photo. Every second seemed to be an ordeal, a very painful burden. Caryn saw the cup: she hardly touched it. She walked away, and left the photo on the nightstand. Caryn remembered that she had to buy to make a famous meal, and… she needed to collect the grades. Oh, the school grades: the executioner of almost any student.

Caryn got ready (she did what she could to hide her dark circles with her makeup), took the car keys and drove away. She drove, and she drove. Caryn had something in mind, but would she be able to do it? Could be, for real? She couldn't go on. Filbrick was like a part of her body she lost in an accident: it was phantom pain that haunted her. She, with all her might, despite everything, misses him ... for every single saint thing in this world: she miss him as a slave miss his freedom, as a flower miss the sun when it gets dark. She miss him. And there was –for her- not enough words to describe that feeling.

So tell me: did you like it? If so, leave your Like, and comment. I plead you, please. XD. If you see a strange word, I apologize. Inform me of that and I will correct it myself (just because I don't have a good command of English it doesn’t mean that I leave a job with mistakes of grammar, however small it may be). From the bottom of my heart, I hope you liked it, and remember to clean your hands, keep your distance, greet like the people of Wakanda, and have your vitamins on hand! Salvete ignotum est a terra.

#young stanley pines #young stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls au #my fics #My writing #Stanley Pines #stanford pines #stan and ford pines: a melancolic story #reblog if you wish

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years

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Writing Commission - A Gift of Sunshine - Chapter 7

Another late update today after yesterday's cliffhanger, but remember my username everyone, and the fact that this story doesn't have the Character Death tag! I would never leave you all hanging like that, so... Enjoy the chapter!

Summary: It is the worst day of fifteen-year-old Aizawa Shouta’s life when he trudges home after a failed entrance test to U.A. – the school made for heroes. His worst day abruptly turns strange, however, when he gets home to find a beautiful sword on his bed with a scroll attached that is addressed from his grandfather.

It turns out that his entire family was descended from a samurai (unsurprising considering he lived in Japan) and the sword was meant to help him become a hero. Shouta hadn’t been expecting the sword to talk, however, and he especially hadn’t expected the sword to have a voice as warm as sunshine itself.

It’s a long journey to become a hero like he wants, but Shouta has a feeling that he and Hizashi are going to do just fine.

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Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic/Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count (Total): 35,935

Transaction Amount: $250 (USD)

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Check out my writing commission information here! Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content!

Read and follow the story on AO3!

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<<Previous Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

Chapter Seven

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Shouta had never been good with hospitals. There had never been a particular reason beyond the fact they were nothing more than a waste of time when Shouta, as a pro hero, was registered to receive care from those most often in possession of healing quirks that allowed for him to be completely healthy by the time his next shift began.

Being confined to a hospital bed when he knew he would be healed the next day was a waste of time, money, and energy he never seemed to have. So, when he had woken up to familiar white lights and white walls, Shouta had been fully prepared to argue his way out of the hospital bed and straight to his one at home; at least, he had.

Recovery Girl, blunt and honest, had wasted no sympathy in telling him his list of injuries and, to top it all off, had made it explicitly clear that he had flatlined multiple times while being operated on. She had then, right after promising she would kill him herself if he so much as twitched a finger, abandoned him to the mercy of his ‘friends.’

“And here I thought I just imagined how brutal she is,” Tensei muttered quietly, Shouta managing a grunt of agreement that was drowned out by Nemuri’s sobbing - sobbing that hadn’t stopped since she had seen him almost an hour ago. “So, uh, right- Right! Um, like we said when you woke up, all the kids are safe, and all their injuries were taken care of in a few minutes. Thirteen is still under, but Recovery Girl is pretty sure they’ll make a full recovery.”

Shouta managed what he had hoped came across as a, “Thank god.” He was too tired to try repeating it, instead letting himself lie limp against his pillows, half-contemplating how it hurt to even breathe. The constant darkness from where his eyes were wrapped did little to help matters. “What else?”

“Well… All Might showed up and managed to defeat that… thing that was there. Nomu? We don’t know much, honestly. If he’s able to speak he’s not saying anything, and the main two managed to escape where one of them had a portal quirk. The school’s been closed for a week while we look into it, but from what I’ve been hearing the parents aren’t exactly happy…”

“When are they ever,” Shouta mumbled, feeling the burn in his throat and chest that paired with a vague memory of being crushed into the ground. He didn’t bother trying to get the memory into focus, instead having his attention taken up, once again, by Nemuri’s sobbing. “Nemuri. Stop crying like I’m on my fucking death bed.”

The sound was cut off at once with a strangled noise that could have once been a hiccup, Shouta feeling a stab of guilt as he took a moment to try and focus on anything but the pain. At least he had a lot of practice at that in life if nothing else. “Sorry, just… you need to stop killing me off in your head. It’s starting to get worrying.”

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m so glad you’re still alive, Shouta.” Unable to see, Shouta was forced to focus on nothing except the wavering words and hitching breaths, something about the tone and emphasis of the words feeling wrong. “You… It was really close.”

“I’m not going to die,” Shouta muttered, the words turning to a hiss where he had tried to instinctively roll his eyes. The accompanying feeling gave him a very firm reminder of what Recovery Girl had said about not moving anything; especially his eyes. “‘Sides, ‘Zashi would never let me live it down if I died a couple of days into the beginning of the school year. Speaking of, where the hell is he?”

Shouta had thought he had been rather patient, all things considered, but it had been now over an hour and no one had mentioned his husband once beyond Tensei, after first entering the room and telling him, very quietly, that they had managed to find and save their rings; which had been a relief.

That relief was waning quickly, though, because for the first time since he was a teenager, it felt like there was a piece of him missing - like a great presence had been taking up space in his head and it was suddenly and abruptly gone. It had been fifteen years since his head had felt so empty.

“Shouta…” Tensei’s tone sounded strained and wrecked, Shouta feeling his heart stutter as Nemuri sounded like she was already crying again. “Shouta, what do you… Can you tell me what you remember? About that fight?”

Quiet for a long moment, Shouta finally spoke, tone quiet from hesitance as much as it was from pain. “Not… much. There are bits and pieces, I guess, and I remember Hizashi and I were fighting together after he had gone to warn Nemuri and the staff, but other than that it’s… spotty.” Suppressed might be a better word, but it was best not to worry them even more. “Why? Did something happen? Is that why I can’t hear him?”

Shouta had half-expected to not be able to feel him considering how much they had both pushed themselves, but he hadn’t thought that Hizashi just wouldn’t be there after something like what they had gone through. The fact that he wasn’t there and that not even Nemuri or Tensei were trying to hide or cover for him was… It wasn’t a good joke.

“Enough, you two,” Shouta sighed, breathing carefully before managing to push down his irritation. “Leave the jokes to the insane hero who named herself after them and tell me what’s going on. Did he push himself too far again?” It had happened once or twice that Hizashi had overdone it even by their standards, forced away into the sword and unable to appear for days until he recovered his strength. Shouta had no doubt that was the case, now. “Is the sword at least in the room?”

Shouta, even with his muffled hearing from the bandages covering parts of his ears, managed to hear the smothered sob Nemuri tried to hide from him. It was that noise, followed by silence, that had Shouta’s heart feeling like it had stopped.

“Shouta, it’s… It’s not-” Tensei’s words cut themselves off as if he hadn’t known where to even go with them. “Hizashi-”

“Shattered.” Nemuri’s voice was rough and shaking and it was a testament to Nemuri’s character that Shouta had no image in mind for her to match the shaking of her voice. Then the word she had whispered sunk into him and carved its way down to his spirit. “Shouta, at USJ, that- That thing shattered-”

“No.” Shouta didn’t know if he recognized his voice, unable to hear it over the way the world sounded as if it had suddenly gone silent and that was right, wasn’t it? The room was silent when Hizashi always made sure that some form of music was playing so Shouta knew he wasn’t alone except it was silent. “That sword can’t shatter. It’s survived hundreds of years-”

“Shouta.” Tensei’s shout, loud and frustrated, was almost enough to make Shouta want to copy Nemuri’s renewed sobs. “From what Thirteen and the kids said Hizashi took over after your elbow was disintegrated, fighting back against Nomu and the other villain that was there. Nomu managed to catch the sword with his hand and then…”

A flash of a remembered feeling that felt like being thrust into a bright room after a comfortable darkness. The unforgettable sensation of shards of metal slicing into his skin as they fell to the ground. The half-erased sight of Hizashi’s surprised face, eyes wide and shocked before he disappeared in front of him, and then nothing except pain.

The aged and tattered memory of a scroll from fifteen years ago that had accompanied a beautiful sword with words foreseeing that he would be broken.

“Shouta?” Nemuri’s voice, small and scared, broke through his thoughts. “Shouta, it��s not… It’s not hopeless. We collected all of the pieces of the sword and Power Loader - the head of the Support department? He knows how to forge and re-forge swords. And I got in contact with your old mentor from when we were in school! You told us he knew about cursed blades, so we brought him in to see if he could help, too. So- It’s not hopeless, Shouta.”

Tensei remained silent through Nemuri’s stumbling words, saying more than Nemuri would ever be able to on the chances of the sword being repaired - and even if it was that didn’t mean shit. Hizashi hadn’t been the sword. Hizashi had been Hizashi.

The sword had just been a container for his spirit, something to hold onto it after he had gotten in over his head and been too curious for his own good. Oh, Hizashi had fully made the sword his own, but he hadn’t been the sword. Even if it were to be repaired that didn’t mean anything if Hizashi’s spirit…

It was almost funny enough that Shouta was tempted to laugh. For so long, for over a decade, the two had always known that Hizashi would outlive Shouta by a long, long time, and yet here Shouta was, bruised but alive, while Hizashi wasn’t.

Shouta’s heart hadn’t stopped at Nemuri’s smothered sob. It had stopped back at USJ when his husband died in front of him.

Nemuri’s endless babble and Tensei’s unbreakable silence lasted until Recovery Girl chased them out, citing his need for ‘rest’ as if it even mattered anymore.

Shouta listened to her bustle around the room, mumbling softly to herself before speaking louder, “I have to say, Shouta, you’re the only one I’ve met whose emotions are strong enough to bring down the entire mood of a room.”

“Oh? I’ll just wait until I’m healed to mourn the death of my husband, shall I?” Shouta snapped out, refusing to acknowledge the waver in his words.

Recovery Girl stayed silent for a beat too long, which was all he needed to hear. The healer had never been one for pity where there was none, after all, and whatever tasks she had to do she did silently, leaving Shouta to come to terms with the fact that Hizashi…

It wasn’t until Shouta heard the door start to open that Recovery Girl spoke, tone softened with not pity, perhaps, but empathy, “You know, we found small pieces and flakes of steel buried in your chest during operation. As far as I’m aware they’re still there.”

“You didn’t remove them?” Shouta frowned to himself at the change in conversation, resisting the urge to move one of his broken arms to feel the front of his chest. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“In normal circumstances,” she admitted. “You had already flatlined three times, however, and it took three healing quirks just to keep you alive long enough to stitch you back together. At that point in time we weren’t very worried beyond keeping you alive past the night. It’s interesting, though.”

There was the sound of ruffling papers, Shouta imaging that she was looking for some x-ray or report. “The pieces are too small and blunt to cause any sort of damage and, after your surgeries, I can safely say that there’s little risk to leaving them in your body as it is now, especially with the scar tissue that will develop and keep them from harming anything vital.”

“Still sounds dangerous,” Shouta muttered, wondering how something like steel shards could even… A shattered sword and then Shouta being thrown to the ground hard enough for the ground to break. A shattered sword that- “Is…?”

“Sharpened metal stuck inside your body and not causing you even a bit of damage?” Recovery Girl laughed, soft and tired. “That boy couldn’t hurt you if he tried, could he?”

“No,” Shouta laughed, the sound sudden and wet as his body screamed in pain at his hitching breaths. “No, he never could.”

⁂

Shouta awoke to the feeling of fingers tangled with his own and tapping out a beat that matched the soft music that filled the hospital room he had started to know better than his own bedroom. The soft mutters in a familiar voice had Shouta’s eyes - recently unbandaged - fluttering back shut from where they had begun to open. He had seen this dream enough times as it was.

The mutters spiked in volume, Shouta just barely stopping the sob at Hizashi’s remembered voice, complaining about inconsequential things as always as he tapped away on Shouta’s phone, “Jeez, spend a week offline and everyone thinks you’re dead. Almost two hundred followers gone after a week!”

The soft sounds of music and Hizashi’s voice, paired with the hand tangled with his own, was almost enough to make Shouta just open his eyes and enjoy the dream for once. He would have if he knew it wouldn’t have hurt more in the long run. Besides, it was enough like this. It was enough to just remember the sound of Hizashi’s voice-

“Shouta?” Ah… but Shouta hadn’t suffered enough, had he? Leave it to him to have nightmares to pick up the slack. “Hey- Hey, you awake there, Shou-chan?” The nickname, softened with time and care, was enough to have one of the sobs slip through, Shouta forcing himself with all his might to keep his eyes closed as he felt a warm hand cup his cheek, rubbing at the skin and tears. “C’mon, Starlight, open your eyes, I know you’re awake-”

“Awake?” The laugh turned sob ripped it’s way out of him, Shouta squeezing his eyes shut even tighter and focusing on the pain that came from it. “I wish that were true instead of this.”

Hizashi’s dream self went silent and it was only the soft sounds of music that kept Shouta from thinking he had blessedly woken up. “You… think you’re asleep. Oh- Oh, Shouta, no-”

“You’re dead,” Shouta muttered, feeling as if the words tore into him as they always did when he remembered why it was so quiet and empty. “You’re dead, Hizashi. Of course this is a dream.”

“Shouta…” Hizashi’s voice stopped before it could continue, Shouta biting back a whine when he felt the hand holding his own let go. A second later and he felt hands on both of his cheeks, tilting his head so carefully towards where the dream Hizashi was no doubt standing. “Shouta, baby, open your eyes for me. Please?”

“No.” Shouta grit his teeth, the soft pet name making him want nothing more than to obey the request. He couldn’t, though, not when he knew what would come next. “I’ll open my eyes and you’ll be covered in blood and you’ll remind me of how it’s my fault that you died. Don’t… please don’t make me go through that again.”

There was a beat of silence and then an incredulous laugh that had Shouta frowning before he could stop himself. “Jesus Christ, Sho, I knew you were dramatic, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Shouta’s eyes snapped open by reflex, glaring up at Hizashi with a sharp, “I am not-” The words cut off as quickly as they had begun, Shouta staring with wide eyes at a softly smiling Hizashi. His skin looked paler than it should with a scattering of thin, sharp scars littering his skin in places there had never before been scars, there were bags under his eyes that looked weeks old, and he looked about as well as Shouta felt, but… he wasn’t covered in blood.

He wasn’t standing there with cracked skin falling apart. He was smiling the smile he only gave to Shouta, eyes soft and warm and so full of love Shouta felt more tears come to his eyes before he could stop them.

“There we are… They’re really thorough with your eye drops if you’re crying this much,” Hizashi teased, rubbing the tears away and pressing a soft kiss under his eye where Shouta knew there was now a scar, the feeling of the kiss so real. “I know I’m the man of your dreams, baby, but I doubt you can dream me up this well.”

“‘Zashi…?” Shouta looked up with wide eyes at his husband, rough and exhausted and so pale, but alive. It was really no surprise that his chest shook with his sobs, emotions crashing down on him that he had been pushing back for the better part of a week. “Hizashi-!”

Hizashi didn’t waste a moment, holding him close with a soft, “I’m here, Starlight.”

It wasn’t until the bright pinks and reds of the early morning sun filtered through the hospital blinds, Hizashi long since dozed off against him, that Shouta realized that he could hear, see, and touch Hizashi. It was enough of revelation that, arms still broken and casted as they were, he instead smacked Hizashi’s forehead with his own.

“Ow- Jesus Christ, babe, what the fuck, yo? I’m right here it’s not like I was actually asleep next time just-”

“I can feel you.” Shouta waited for Hizashi to realize the same thing he had, frowning instead when Hizashi looked at him like he had just admitted he didn’t know how social media worked, which, why even would he know that?

“Yeah, babe, I think we established that a decade ago.” Hizashi pouted at him, the effect utterly ruined with the red bump on his forehead that Shouta felt mildly bad about. “Do I need to get a nurse or something? I mean, I can probably smack your call nurse button, if nothing else-”

“‘Zashi.” Shouta waited until Hizashi’s attention was back on him before continuing because this was important. “I haven’t mediated in over a week, now. According to you your sword is still at U.A. I can still see you, hear you, and feel you. You were also using my phone, earlier.”

“Oh. Oh.” Hizashi half moved to sit up before settling back down, staring at Shouta with wide eyes. Shouta couldn’t blame him considering their connection had always relied on meditation and the proximity of the sword. Even as it had evolved and changed, Shouta had always needed to meditate daily, sometimes for hours at a time, for the bond to stay strong as it was. He also always had to have the sword on him or at least nearby for Hizashi to be as physical as he was. Now, though…

Silent as Hizashi mumbled and ranted to himself, Shouta relaxed back into Hizashi’s hold even as he thought over what could have caused the change. Then he remembered Recovery Girl’s explanation of the small pieces of Hizashi’s sword still inside him.

Unable to stop his smile, Shouta tucked himself under Hizashi’s chin, kissing at one of the thin scars that he would have to determine the cause behind later. As it was, it was a good way to have Hizashi stumble over his words, Shouta knowing he would see flushed cheeks if he were to glance up. Instead, though, he settled down with a soft, “I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about, Sunshine.”

In all of his worry and panic and mourning, Shouta had forgotten the most important thing about Hizashi and the sword. After all, for as much as Hizashi’s soul was bound to the sword, it was bound to Shouta just as much.

“Shouta.” Hizashi’s voice, soft and warm and a sound he would never grow tired of, had Shouta giving a soft hum to show he was listening. “We’ll never lose a fight like that again.”

“No. We won’t,” Shouta agreed, the promise burning in the heart he had thought gone cold with Hizashi’s death. “We’ll get stronger.” No matter what, Shouta was never going to watch his husband and students suffer like that again.

The world of heroes and villains weren’t going to know what hit them.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #erasermic #a gift of sunshine #original

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letsbfrank4 · 5 years

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Book Review: YOU

Rating: ☕☕☕☕☕

Title: YOU Author: Caroline Kepnes Publisher: Emily Bestler Books / ATRIA Genres: Fiction, Thriller Pages: 424 Format: Paperback

“If we were teenagers, I could kiss you. But I’m on a platform behind a counter wearing a name tag and we’re too old to be young. Night moves don’t work in the morning, and light pours in through the windows.”

“He won’t listen or learn or bend and I’m losing patience with him, with life, with humans.”

“…I am going to have to choose between you and the pieces of you currently stored in a box…”

“…I killed for you. I deserve you.”

When I was watching the show YOU on Netflix I couldn’t help but feel that the script sounded just like a book. After searching on Google, sure enough, I found that it was a book. Since I enjoyed watching the show I had to see how the book would compare. I was not let down. The book is much more dark and sinister than the show which made for such a great read. I can’t remember the last time I read through a book this quickly. Warnings before reading this book includes: sexually explicit content and language, drug use, violence/abuse. SPOILERS are included in this review. Skip to the last paragraph for my rating and conclusion. In today’s day and age social media is everywhere. We’ve all been told to be careful of what we put on the internet because we don’t know who may be reading it. Not to mention we have all had that moment of weakness when we did a little too much “research” on a person whether it be a friend, ex, or even a celebrity. This book does a great job showing how dark the web can get and a lot of the fear factor that comes from this book stems from how realistic this situation can be. Kepnes’s style of writing was magnetic, borderline stream of consciousness. The reader felt like they were inside Joe’s head, watching life happen through his eyes. In the beginning of the book the reader can validate and relate to what Joe is doing, little things like noticing a name on a credit card, what she likes to read, seeing her on Facebook, etc. However, as the book progresses it gets harder and harder for the reader to validate what Joe is doing. Going through that transition is scary because it is easy to see how blurred the lines can get (especially if you don’t know where they stop). I know I was trying to figure out when I went from rooting for Joe to screaming for Beck to run. The conclusion did a wonderful job of tying up the loose ends, for now. It was a great way to get Joe off the hook and out of the threatening zone of getting caught. The very last paragraph was terrifyingly cold. Joe replaces Beck so easily. Beck becomes just another Candace. The reader becomes so close to Joe throughout the book. It was incredible to watch as the reader and Joe start to form a dialogue of their own. All the inside jokes: minutes to hours to days (time telling), such small hands, secret knowledge of the green pillow, etc. Then to see Joe doing the exact same thing with Beck and watching how they create their own language: different/hot, engine engine number 9, everythingship, solipsistic, etc; the shared content in brilliant. When it came to Beck’s character I wasn’t very happy with the way she was portrayed. I’m not sure whether it was Joe getting to my head but the book made it seem like Beck was asking for all this attention, if you play with fire don’t be upset if you get burned. I would have liked it more if Beck was painted in a more innocent victim type light. Throw some curtains in her apartment, they could have been in need of repair from falling off the wall or something along those lines. Make her more of a girl next door and not have men thinking she is sex on a stick. I didn’t like how Beck did all these careless type things and then that justifies all this drama leaking into her life. A lot of this book was based off situations that are fairly realistic but I thought that Beck’s phone not being deactivated wasn’t realistic at all. Even if someone else is paying the bill any normal person would have to phone turned off. Why? Because your information is in it! I would have liked more information on Candace. Was she his first normal relationship? His only? Or was she his first victim? What was she like in comparison to Beck? Does Joe have a type or can any girl fall victim to his obsessions? So many questions. Now that I have a majority of the basic review out of the way I do have some topics that I would like to talk about, some notes and other things that I noticed while reading. First, when it comes to the murders there is a lot of commonalities between the way the murders are written and Joe’s feelings towards the victim. Joe’s first kill in the story is Benji. Joe couldn’t care less about Benji and his killing showed that. Joe just hoped that Benji was telling the truth about his allergies. There aren’t really any details as to how Benji dies and his body is gotten rid of in a way where no one will ever find him, erased from everyone’s lives because he is that unimportant. Peach’s death included a failed attempt and a very physical altercation and struggle. Joe was constantly battling Peach for Beck and Peach’s death emphasizes how much Joe was trying to snuff her out. However, just like how Peach kept upping one up on Joe, her body resurfaces despite how hard Joe tried to keep it sunk. Moving on to Candace, the reader doesn’t know much about her death. Like Candace’s story her death is short and passionate. We know Joe loved her and was betrayed by her. Candace’s death was a crime of passion and Joe just wanted to drown out the fact that she was leaving him. Dr. Nicky, while not a death, was an attempt. Joe did a lot of research on Dr. Nicky. Joe wasn’t 100 percent sure that he was sleeping with Beck when he wanted to get rid of him. Hence, Joe didn’t go through with the killing 100 percent. Right when Joe was about the strike he ends up backing off because of Beck’s call. Finally, it comes to Beck’s death. Beck’s death is very prolonged, Joe struggles with her, thinks she is dead, gets upset, Beck is alive, struggles again, Beck hurt Joe, Joe actually kills Beck and feels glad but then upset again. Just like their relationship it is not only passionate and complicated but ultimately deadly. Joe struggles with his emotions when getting rid of her body, he loves her but can’t keep her. The epic story comes to a tragic end. All these deaths are reflective of each individual person. Next, Peach’s character is interesting and adds a plot twist to this already creepy story. When we first meet Peach she seems like an obstacle, in the way of Joe getting the girl. The reader starts to root for Joe to get past this girl Peach but then they wonder if Peach is just doing her job, being the protective friend that she is (keeping her best friend safe from strange stalker guys). Then the plot twist happens and it turns out Peach is just as creepy and just as big of a stalker as Joe. Then it becomes a battle of the stalkers. This goes to show the reader that there can be more than just one threat out there. The last parallel that I want to make is when Joe seems to compare Beck with books. Joe goes through a big speech about how books can suck you in, make you leave everything behind, fall in love, become enraptured by them, and then they disappear. Later on in the book Joe describes Beck’s death in this way. He talks about how she is flawed just like the books in his store and how she has ended and left him, he even shoves pages of a book in her mouth while she is dying. Then the book ends with Joe moving on to a different “book” and starting the whole pattern up again. I know that this review is a little on the longer side but there was so much to be said for this book. I cannot give this book a 5 out of 5 All Nighter Worthy rating enough. I could not put this book down. If you want a page turner and nail biter this is a good choice. Would I recommend this book? Yes, I was already recommending this book before I even finished it. YOU has definitely made it to the top end of my favorites list. Naturally, the show on Netflix is good too, so be sure to check that out as well. I’m already on the hunt for Kepnes’s next book Hidden Bodies.

Summary: When a beautiful, aspiring writer strides into the East Village bookstore where Joe Goldberg works, he does what anyone would do: he googles the name on her credit care. There is only one Guinevere Beck in New York City. She has a public Facebook account and tweets incessantly, telling Joe everything he needs to know: she is simply Beck to her friends, she went to Brown University, she lives on Bank Street, and she’ee be at a bar in Brooklyn tonight- the perfect place for a “chance” meeting. As Joe invisibly and obsessively takes control of Beck’s life, he begins quietly removing the obstacles that stand in their way. Joe will do anything to ensure Beck finds herself in his waiting arms- even if it means murder.

#book blog #book review #bilbiophile #library #bookworm #blogger #booklr #fiction #booklover #YOU #caroline kepnes #thriller #netflix

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isempiterna · 6 years

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𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑃𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑒: 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑜𝑣𝑒

The year was 1942. Peter Walter I sat in the sun room of Walter Manor, having finally been pried from the basement laboratory at the insistence of his son, Peter Walter II. This had been a common conflict ever since Peter II had grown old enough to realize that his father’s obsession with creating automatons, while a scientific miracle, had gone past the line of unhealthy. Peter I wasn’t keeping track, specifically—he no longer kept track of much, not the number of mechanical beings he created nor how he created them—but as he watched the dusky glow of sunset caress his pale hands, he mused that more often that not, his son would eventually leave in some manner of upset and Peter would remain hunched over one of the many worktables, half-formed mounds of metal and wires drawing him in until they filled his lungs and eyes and mind. Until he hardly felt like a man, himself.

But this time he had been too tired to resist Peter II’s firm-yet-gentle reprimands. And so he found himself in the cavernous room above the ground, watching the sun take his place below the horizon. Peter I could hardly remember the warmth of sunlight. The beauty of it hurt his eyes, his tired, tired eyes. He knew tiredness, an old and intimate friend, and so it was that he knew that this was a different sort, that things were changing. Time continued passing as was time’s nature. He was dying.

Gaze now fixed on the lace-like tops of trees, to the burnished sky beyond, Peter I thought of death. And while briefly he lingered on the slow approach of his own, much like the gradual arrival of night in front of him, he was not afraid, for his death had never concerned him. No, in this hour of ponder with his hands motionless in his lap, away from the haven of his work room where he could armor his mind with metal and rewire it with sparking circuitry, he allowed himself to think, for the first time in years, of Delilah. Beautiful, clever, brilliant Delilah; oh, how he loved her still. As he had a million, no, countless times beyond that, he wished that he only loved her more than his desire to be loved in return. A breath escape him softly, stale and ghosting on memories. He’d forgotten how beautiful the world was, how graceful the trees, how captivating the skies, but he could never forget the beauty of Delilah Moreau.

The pale figure that appeared at the edge of the slender woods stole whatever breath he might have drawn. It was as though she had been summoned directly from his mind, impossible as it was—although who was he to claim the impossible? But no, the woman standing just shy of the shadows was not entirely true to his memory. For one, Delilah had never been so pale in life; only in death, eyes closed, her hair fanning slightly on the pillow of the sickbed. And that was another difference, for the Delilah he was looking at had short hair, not the long waves of soft ebony he had so admired. And...while she was certainly how he remembered her, she was not how he should know her.

Peter found himself at the window, somehow, tremors coursing through his old and weary body as his hand, calloused and wrinkled, fumbled with the latch. But she was still young, in her prime, strong and healthy and alive, not dead or dying. And yet as the window swung open, the slight glare of glass separating them removed and he saw her more clearly, there was something new to her. A quiet something, not noticeable like pale skin or hair that brushed her jaw but undeniably there. An undercurrent. A timelessness.

“Delilah...” he wheezed, still not able to catch his breath. “Delilah?” He could not know if she heard him, only hope, but he hoped with a fierceness that had him believing it to be true. “Delilah, I...” Whatever he was going to say trailed off before he could even know what it was. She would not stay; he knew it like he knew that she really was Delilah who had died, been dead for years. Or, not so dead, it seemed. Whatever he said now would truly be the last thing he ever said to her.

For a handful seconds hoarded into eternity the two simply looked at each other, her eyes so bright and clear they were almost glowing and his, dimmed and only fading further. He had lived his life, and she...she had found another.

And just like that, Peter suddenly knew there was nothing to say. True, he loved her still and would never stop loving her to his last breath, but this was not her life anymore. He did not know this Delilah, not for lack of wanting but simply for lack of time; even if she stayed, they could never return to their old relationship of colleagues, much less achieve a new one. He had a son, a family he had built with his own hands, years of memories without her. What Delilah had he did not know, but he didn’t want to give her the burden of an old man, a reminder of a past that was long since covered in dust and buried. This was not a reunion; this was a goodbye.

So Peter smiled. He smiled bigger than he had ever smiled before, until it felt like it covered his whole face, until his eyes were almost closed so tightly that all the moisture was being squeezed out to trickle down the lines of his cheeks. He smiled with all the strength and determination and wonder that had lead him to his path in life, to discover and create new life in ways only dreamed of. He smiled like the rising sun, and she smiled back, small and peaceful and mysterious.

And then she was gone before he could realize it, fading back into the secret darkness of the night. The light was but a lingering glow of an ember ready to sleep. And for the first time, he felt no sense of loss. For the first time in a long time, Peter I felt awake, clear of mind and inspired with the bubbling energy that drove him all those years ago. He felt invigorated. He needed to work. Not to distract or avoid or forget, but because his thoughts were crashing together and sparking and on the verge of exploding; they were buzzing and he needed to create.

Peter II’s voice floated from somewhere behind him, asking if everything was okay. The elder Walter turned from the window, strode across the room to his son to grip his shoulders with metal-toughened hands. He could still feel remains of the smile on his mouth, see the surprise in his son’s face, a spark of hope in his eyes.

“I have an idea, Junior.” The nickname was old, from a time when Peter II still fell of his bike and dropped his ice cream, when Peter I had managed to rouse himself from his self-imposed prison to taste again the joys of life. It had not been used in many years. “And I want you to work with me.”

The Mourning Dove was built with the original idea of being a new addition to the band once the others returned from the war. However, as the war struggled on, plans were changed and The Mourning Dove was modified to be a medical unit to be sent to join the war. Given a titanium alloy skeleton to help withstand the dangers of war (as well as hollow compartments in her legs and arms to store medical supplies, small gas canister chambers in her lower rib cage, and a variety of medical and mechanical tools in her hands and wrists) it was not long after she woke that she was sent across seas. It was the first and last that she ever saw her creator.

The first time she and her siblings ever met was on the battlefield; along with the medical treatment files for humans, Peter I had also added a large file containing all the information she would need to help maintain her fellow automatons. Because she did not have the necessary additions to be a weapon she quickly grew closest to The Jon due to the medical support he would often assist in, though it was inevitable that they all grew to love each other simply because that was how their Pappy made them.

When the war finally ended and the bots were returned home they were finally allowed the time to get to know each other in peace. Those were good years, if not perfect, touched with the sad passing of Judith and ever-shadowed by the loss of Peter I. But it was a shared loss, and the robot siblings pulled together to support each other, and they were surrounded by the loving members of Walter Manor.

Five years later, that peace was shattered. Rabbit’s power core was stolen by the Walters’ competitor Becile, and with it The Mourning Dove. Although Rabbit’s core was eventually recovered at a terrible price, The Mourning Dove was never found, and it was assumed she was destroyed in the blast along with Peter II and Guy Hottie.

In fact, The Mourning Dove survived, though she would remain in stasis in the space-time continuum for many years to come. With the rift still open she was trapped there, unable to settle fully in any world, and it wasn’t until it was closed by Peter VI that her existence was finally able to stabilize. Unfortunately, she would not be found until some years later by a particularly adventurous and not-quite-law-abiding mechanic.

After being brought home by Lark, many weeks are spent laboriously fixing up the damaged bot. The various dings, dents, scuffs and scratches are easily dealt with, but the deep gouge in her lower back resulted in a partially severed spinal column which would require an entirely new replacement. Without that kind of money or material on hand, Lark had to settle for installing new oil and hydraulic lines, circuit cables, and fixing up as many little things as she could to make the eventual spine replacement easier. During this time The Mourning Dove was left in stasis, as she would only be shut down again for all the necessary repairs.

Finally, however, Lark had done all that she could, and it was with great anticipation that she started up the Walter automaton. Once online, though, only more problems were discovered. At some point, or perhaps slowly over time, a total data scramble had occurred; some files were erased either partially or fully and many more were locked, and a small corruption in her processing hard-drive would short her out every time she tried to retrieve them. Essentially, The Mourning Dove was experiencing amnesia. When asked her name she could not remember, and it was only Lark’s introduction that prompted a vague feeling that it had something to do with birds as well. Immediately after that she was dubbed Sparrow.

It was at this time that Lark’s previous decision began to waver—for while she had known that this was a Walter bot and should rightfully be brought back to her original home, the mechanic had been dreaming for so long of the wonders that were the robots that she couldn’t help but desire to keep her, just long enough to learn more about how she worked both as a machine and as a person with a unique soul. At first Lark had planned to fix her and befriend her before returning her home (and perhaps even acquire a job as a Walter mechanic), but with the new revelations she became unsure. A selfish part of her realized that with the lack of memories it would be all too easy to keep her for good, but Lark squashed it quickly, unsettled by the thought. And then there was the problem of the replacement spine; it would take Lark a good while of hard saving before she could fully repair the bot, but with the help of Walter Robotics it would be a cinch.

However, unbeknownst to either party, the trouble runs even deeper yet. In the casing that holds Sparrow’s Blue Matter core there is a small, hairline crack. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been a problem had she been recovered at the same as Rabbit’s core, but it’s been over 50 years since then, nearly all of which has been spent stuck in the limbo of the space-time continuum. This lead to a fundamental alteration in her Blue Matter linking to the space-time continuum, which eventually becomes a next-level can of worms.

Due to the link, there is a constant trickle of unknown energy bleeding through the core. As more energy gathers and builds up it becomes unstable, and eventually a rift will open, pulling Sparrow and anyone too close to her into another part of the world, a different world entirely, and sometimes a completely different dimension. It has also affected her hard-drive, allowing her to occasionally receive random data from anywhere: the future, the past, information that should be impossible for anyone to access, or even data from other worlds. This technopathy is independent of her will and a rare occurrence; however, there is a possibility that she could induce it with extensive practice, willpower, and focus. Using it consciously would come at a steep price with dangerous side effects, though, such as increased susceptibility to unknown viruses (including real diseases translated into viruses), as well as creating back doors for anyone/thing that might attempt to breach her system. Consciously inducing it also raises the traceability, whereas when it’s random it’s nigh untrackable.

#✡𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 : 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆✡ prelude to a dream.#☾𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 : 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡☽ the lockless door.#((alright first of all I would just like everyone to know that I am EQUALLY horrified by how many details I am cramming into this au #BUT I'M SO FUCKING INVESTED PLEASE I NEED MY STEAM POWERED GIRAFFE CONTENT #WHERE Y'ALL AT I'M THIRSTIN?????????))

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